MOVIE SPOILER DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. They also belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, without whom, they would have life, but no soul. No copyright infringement intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone either living or dead. No financial gain is made from this writing. ARCHIVE ANYWHERE ON TWO CONDITIONS 1. I REMAIN AS AUTHOR along with my e-mail addy 2. MY DISCLAIMER REMAINS WITH THE STORY. NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards Yvonne-Richards@clasic.msn.com SPOILERS: Everything up to and including the MOVIE RATING - PART 1 - Parts 1-7 G except for a few naughty words F***ing PART 2 - Parts 7 - 12 NC-17 in parts CONTENT WARNING - SOME SEXUAL SCENES CLASSIFICATION - MSR through and through BALE OUT NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT THESE TWO IN LOVE Thanks, as ever, to my dear friend Gerry Hill for her support and kind words. The characters of Panda and Poo were in fact my own Old English Sheepdog from many years ago, and my own tabby cat who died of cancer on 11th July, 1998. TAG LINE: After twenty years apart, a tragic turn of events, brings our two heroes back into each others lives. This story is set in New York in the year 2018. It's timeline starts at the premise that the movie happened but Season 6 DID NOT. Basically what we have here is a two-parter. Part 1 (Parts 2-7) deals with the events that bring Mulder and Scully back together after twenty years apart and Part 2 (Parts 7 onwards) deal with the relationship and where it eventually goes. There are loads of characters in this one even though it stays mainly in the same place. It's MSR through and through. So bale out NOW if you don't like that. Even so I've tried to keep their original characterisations as much as I can, not too many Fox and Dana's . There is a little bit of an X-File in it as well. The ending wasn't planned by any stretch of the imagination. It just happened. It's the darndest thing isn't it, these characters have lives of their own when they get on paper. I hope you enjoy, hit the button if you do. Yvonne Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com MOVIE SPOILER 2/12 UNFINISHED SYMPHONY by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards In any life the inevitable happens. That which is bound to happen, over which we have no control. What shape and form it takes only time and fate will tell. As a child we perceive those around us as constant. A continuity of comfort and security. Reaching adulthood and losing that continuum through death or separation comes as a hard lesson to learn. Sometimes though, into your life comes another constant. Another continuous bond that, by its very constancy, becomes inevitable. If and when we do find both then we must hold on. For grim death. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ The Chapel of Our Lady New York November, 2018 Tuesday 2.30 pm As I seat myself at the back of the chapel, I wonder how many lives these impassive walls have seen pass through them. Life is a never ending cycle. Birth, even 're-birth' within ourselves, and death, when that final curtain is drawn and we are free to pursue an altogether different existence in another world. The whitewashed walls are cold and sterile, warmed a little by the late November sun. It is excruciatingly cold within these stone walls and I wonder if it is the weather or the occasion. I huddle down into my black topcoat feeling thankful that I decided to wear a hat. It not only serves to keep me warm, but also to hide my identity. Sitting here gives me time to reflect on the conversation that has brought me to this place today. Just one week ago I was sat across the table from her. The last weak rays of winter sun highlight the still redgold streaks that peak through the grey and glint off her gold-rimmed glasses. Glasses have become an integral part of her apparel, a sign of failing eyesight and health, but not the Scully fire. That is still there, still very apparent. She drops the paper down to table level so suddenly it makes me jump. "Just listen to this, dear." She clears her throat and begins to read a passage from the evening paper. "Yet More Tragedy Befalls Family." She looks over the top of her glasses at me, giving me that all knowing look of hers. "After attending a glittering evenings entertainment at which Elizabeth Munroe, the world famous concert pianist, came out of semi retirement to give a long awaited live recital, horrified onlookers watched as a car travelling at over 120 mph crashed into her limousine outside the steps of the Symphony Hall, killing her instantly." I look across at her with a "What's this got to do with me?" look written across my face. "Wait," she replies and then continues. "The family has been beset by tragedy when the son was killed in a diving accident off the French coast two years ago. Still reeling from the shock of his death, this not only comes as a double blow but a triple one. Within hours of her mother dying, the daughter Elouise who was with her mother at the recital, and flown by Air Ambulance for emergency surgery died on the operating table. One wonders how the head of this family will cope with his own grief and shock of watching helplessly as the car careered into his family as he stood on the sidewalk. After a life of helping others come to terms with problems he will certainly have enough of his own." She looks over at me again, stilling my impatience with one of her looks. A chord of music brings me back from my reverie, indicating that the pall bearers are waiting at the door ready for their sombre procession up the aisle. Her words echo through my head fighting against the musical notes. "Even though the couple were semi-recluses, their large house in New York, from where Fox Mulder ran his own Psychology Practice," She stops abruptly, again looking over the rim of her glasses at me. The shock must register on my face, the mere mention of his name setting my pulse racing. The paper is laid on the table and smoothed down with wrinkled hands. Her eyes bore into mine, looking into my very soul, waiting for a reaction from me. I have none to give. I'm numb. As I shake my head in disbelief her hand comes to rest on mine. "I think you should go, Dana." "No." I shake my head violently. "I couldn't. It's been too long. I wouldn't know what to say." I pause to draw breath, my heart hammering, knowing full well that I _don't_ want to go. Don't want to see him. "I just can't." The emotion begins to well up in me as the full force of the article hits me. He's lost his _entire_ family. I cannot comprehend what grief he must be feeling. How he must be coping? If at all. I should go to him, shouldn't I? "He needs you." Her voice, cool and calm but firm and insistent too. "You should go to him." I continue to shake my head. Her eyes take on the fire in her soul. "Why?" she interjects with such force that I reel from it. "Why? In God's name, the man needs you, go to him." A tear slips down my face and I cover my mouth with my hand to stop the anguished sob from escaping. She doesn't know, doesn't understand. A tryst. It was a tryst, all those years ago. I can't. "You must go, Dana. Because if you don't, then I will. I will not let Fox believe we have forgotten him. I will never understand why you lost touch with him. You worked so closely. At one time, I thought you two might have" she stops to sigh and look heavenward, "well, you know." The pain of her words slices through me like a knife. I know only too well. I ball my fist and press it to my lips. My head tells me what is good and right to do, but my heart knows better. I finger the cross at my neck. She picks up on it. "You _must_ go Dana, if not for him or me, for what that symbolises. For everything your religion dictates. For everything that the church means to you. And for everything that Fox means to you too." She puts a hand up to still my protest. "And don't tell me he doesn't mean anything. I know you love him, you always have done. You helped him with his past, you have to go help him with his future. You owe him that much, Dana." I nod, in spite of myself. And that small inclination of my head has brought me to this cold bare chapel, my past behind me, my present stopped in a heartbeat and my future uncertain. The sunlight reflecting through the small stained glass windows throws a rainbow of colours onto the highly polished surface of the coffins, glinting off the brass fixings and casting a coloured hue across the all-white flowers that adorn the tops of both of them. I glance sideways, almost furtively, as the two coffins pass. A tall dark man follows, shoulders hunched and head bowed down to his chest. His gait is almost wooden as he struggles to maintain his dignity. Directly behind him are two women dressed in dark grey suits, I recognise them from the paper as her sisters. At the sight of his familiar form my eyes are drawn to him. The world slows as he looks across at me and seeks out my eyes from under the brim of my hat. I am compelled to return his gaze, even though I know I shouldn't. My heart jumps into my throat, constricting there as I fight for breath, my arms aching to reach out to him, my head telling me I have no place here at all. The power of speech eludes me as time stops and I gaze into those dark pools of pain. My hand flies to my mouth. I should never have come. I knew it wouldn't do any good. It only serves to bring back memories of a time I would prefer to forget. There is the slightest hint of an upward curve to his thin, drawn lips as he searches my eyes with his own. His face pale from cold and grief, his large dark sunken eyes caress and assault me in one lingering look. "Scully? ---," he struggles. His voice thin and dry, my name crackling like trodden-on paper-thin leaves fallen from trees. His face awash with emotion and devoid of it at one and the same time. Emotions well up in me and I place a leather-gloved hand on the wooden pew to steady myself. I am so close to him I can smell his essence. I long to touch him. My heart flies to my mouth as I watch, in seemingly slow motion, as he stumbles and lurches forward. Instantly her sisters are each side of him, grasping his arms, guiding him onwards. Pulling him back to his grief. With his last ounce of energy and dignity he continues his long walk behind his wife and daughter, his head held high, the now firm set of his shoulders belie his grief. His head just visible in the front pew as the service begins with the last piece of music Elizabeth Munroe ever played. Of course, I never knew her as Elizabeth Munroe, that was why when mom read the paper to me it made no sense. Obviously, it was her stage name but the press never mentioned her real name or that she and Mulder had met in the line of duty, so to speak. She had a supporting spot, under her real name of Lizzie Roberts, at a concert that Mulder and I were called to work on the security team for and they happened to meet. She sent him tickets for various concerts after that which he took her up on, much to my surprise, and they also had a few dinner dates. I began to have the distinct feeling she fancied him or she was working to someone else's agenda. I wasn't keen on either scenario but each time I broached the subject with him, I would get the same response. "My paranoia must be rubbing off on you, Scully." "I just don't trust her, Mulder, that's all." He'd laughed and retorted in a thick Irish-American accent. "To be sure, it wouldn't be those little green eyes working overtime now, would it?" He always did have this spooky sort of way of knowing what I was thinking. Of course I denied it vehemently, but he knew it was true. He must have known how I felt about him, must have known I'd have gone to the ends of the earth for him. Had done, and to his credit, so had he. He rescued me, literally, from the jaws of death in the Arctic. I continued to stand by him and fight with him after that. Until she came on the scene that is. When we got back from the Arctic, I thought things were better between us. I felt a new energy and dynamism exuding from us, I thought we were going forward. We would have, had it not been for his persistent guilt trip. He got increasingly depressed when we got back from that near-fatal trip. He kept telling me over and over again. "If it wasn't for me, Scully, you'd never have been there. There would have been no need for me to rescue you." He'd look imploringly at me with puppy dog eyes big enough to melt the polar ice cap. "Would you?" "I may not have chosen to go there, Mulder, but you chose to come after me. You didn't have to rescue me, but you did. Anyway, this goes back further than that. I've told you before, I know what I'm doing and I need to go with you as much as you need to go alone." "But, Scully." "There are no buts, Mulder. It's my job and if I didn't want to do it then I'd quit. Okay?" He never really believed me, I don't know why, I tried to be as convincing as I could but he just chewed himself up over it, time and time again. He was in self-destruct mode. The dulcet tones of the priest force my thoughts away and bring me back to the cold light of day. "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Jesus Christ our Lord." Romans 8, v38-39. I'll never know how it is that I can remember these verses from the Bible especially since my mind continues to wander, taking me back to that time. A time when I feared that his self-destruct mode would do just that. Liz phoned me one day at the office when she knew Mulder was out and invited me to lunch. I'd had this horrible feeling deep in my gut that she was going to regale me with some sob story and tell me that I was never to see Mulder again. Well, I was half right at least. She warned me off him, told me that he was only happy when he was with her. She had persuaded him to leave the FBI, give up his fight for the X-Files, for the future, for Sam. For us. What had begun in his hallway and had never been finished was finished now. As surely as if the he'd never followed me to the Arctic. My head told me she was right, he was killing himself with his guilt over me. He seemed calmer and more relaxed when he was with her. They had an easy banter around each other, sparks flew between them, and not just the grey matter. It had been an instant attraction on her part, and who could blame her. Mulder was an attractive man, any woman with half a brain would have been flattered by his attention. Except me that is. I never could open myself up and accept the love he had to offer. For that was what his guilt was I came to realise later. All of the love and concern that was bottled up for me had to find some way out, a way of expressing itself. Mulder never was good at expressing himself though. But there was more history between us than that. The flowers and the notes arrived by the armful and were returned with not known at this address. I had made a tryst with Liz that day, at lunch. I handed my notice in to Skinner and I was gone, out of Fox Mulder's life for good. I left him to find the happiness he deserved. He would never have known joy with me. I had too much emotional baggage for him. And so it is that I sit here now in this cold chapel, watching his bowed head, the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as his grief overcomes him and I'm too gutless to reach out to him. The final piece of music plays, I don't know what it is, the priest says that Fox and Elizabeth had it played at their wedding. I feel sick, I should have stuck by him. The notes he sent declared his undying love for me and I never returned that love openly to him. I've kept it hidden all these years. My feet feel like concrete as my heart wants to flee from the constraints of this church before he sees me again. Too late, the procession have begun their way down the aisle. Mulder follows right behind, his shoulders bent with the mantle of grief he has to bear. Feet that seem unable to bear his weight shuffle down the marble floor, his eyes fixed firmly on the intricate patterns of the mosaic as if committing each crack and crevice to that eidetic memory of his. Perhaps this is my reprieve, he won't look again. I won't have to see the deep anguish and sorrow that goes beyond today, that goes back twenty years. As he reaches the final pew he stops and takes a deep breath. I take the self same deep breath as I see his hand extend toward me. Panic courses through my body. This is neither the time nor the place for this. It is so unlike Mulder, this public show of --- of what woman, grief? His need for some support. Who else has he got? Mom's words echo in my head, "He needs you. You should go to him." As he turns to look at me, I am lost in his face, so beautiful still, after all these years. He looks so lost and alone as he offers his hand to me, palm turned upward. His eyes imploring me to help him as I watch him swallow down his grief. Slowly I extend my hand to his and feel the soft warm leather of his glove encompass my own. The warmth of his touch excites me and I chastise myself for these feelings. They are wholly inappropriate, but there none the less. Stepping out from the pew into the aisle I stand by his side as I should have done two decades before. Feeling his body sag beside me I tighten my embrace on his hand, willing my strength into his failing body. He falters as he tries to move his feet forward again, his body unwilling to perform the simple act of walking. I know now, I never should have left him, should have always been there for him, to carry him, uplift him as he did for me on so many occasions. How could I have been so blind, so stupid? My bottom lip trembles as I feel his shoulders shudder as a wave of emotion crashes over him. The air outside seems marginally warmer than it was in the chapel, the weak winter sun responsible in some part. Mulder is still leaning heavily on me as we approach the funeral cars. Behind us I can hear the crunch of gravel and my heart begins to pound. My presence isn't appropriate, well not in this intimate a capacity anyway. Please God, I don't want a scene. A small hand is placed on my shoulder and I turn to see a well groomed woman in her late forties standing beside me. "Any friend of Fox's is welcome." She smiles genuinely. "_Please_, stay with him. We'll travel in the other car." My throat constricts at the gesture as I help Mulder's almost lifeless form into the back of the car and he collapses against the soft leather. Neither of us know what to say to each other, but then we never were big on that sort of communication. He just grabs my hand and hangs on like a drowning man hanging on to a lifebelt. No words are spoken, we just need this closeness. We are still clasping the others hand when we reach the crematorium. He has not made eye contact with me and even now he hangs his head as he speaks. "I can't go in, Scully." He shakes his head, his face fixed in the most heart rending mask. "I just can't." "I'll be with you, Mulder. Every step of the way. I'll never let go." We clutch each other in a desperate attempt to feel our way through this mixed bag of emotions. He squeezes my hand and I know he believes me, has gained strength from my words. Again, he can lean on me as he used to. Together, stronger and better than apart. Together, hand in hand, we walk solemnly behind the remainder of his family. The whole of his life encased in wood and brass as they make their final earthly journey and he will say his final goodbye. "I need you with me on this, Scully." His voice is raw with emotion and I swallow to contain my own. He sways a little and rests against my arm, I tighten my grip on his hand. "I'm here for you. Always." I rub my head against his shoulder closing my eyes to the immense grief I feel for him. "Just lean on me." The warmth of his body seems to miraculously take the chill from my own. "We'll get through this." He nods taking a long deep breath to steady his nerves. With our fingers entwined he rests his arm on top of mine, leaning on me both physically and emotionally, each of us upholding the other. Tears mist my vision as I look up into his hollow face. "Are you ready?" A small, weak smile is returned briefly and strengthened by it we face one of the most difficult times of his life. Together. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 3/12 UNFINISHED SYMPHONY by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com En route to Mulder's Home Central Park, New York The ride back to his home is taken yet again in silence. His shoulders set back, his head held high, his jaw set in the all too familiar pose I have become used to. Was it only five years we were together? It seems like fifty. I seem to have known him all my life and the last twenty years have just gone, flown by. All that time we wasted, why? Forget it, Dana. Concentrate on the here and now. You can help him now. Forget the past. But what if _he_ can't? What if he just needs me now, someone to lean on in his grief. An all too familiar face. How foolish I've been. To think that he may still harbour those kinds of feelings for me. I'm taking advantage of him, he's so vulnerable. He's just lost his life partner and his daughter, and here I am wondering if the man still loves me. How selfish can you get? I walk out on him, he declares undying love for me, I never return his love or even have the decency to reply to his notes. And, now, I have the audacity to think he may still love me. Get a grip, Dana. Get a life. During the drive back from the crematorium, he has held on to my hand, yet again, as if he were drowning. He still won't look at me and I don't think I could meet his gaze anyway. Everything is too raw. However selfish it may seem, I cannot get away from how we both must feel at seeing each other again after all these years. His grief apart, I know him too well and I saw his pain in the chapel. I know how much I've hurt him, and I would do anything to make up for that. My mind whirls out of control. Vulnerable. He's too vulnerable, Dana. You have to let go, it isn't fair on him. You have to go. But you told him you'd never let go of him. Are you going to let him down, again? My temples throb with the enormity of it all. Consciously unwilling but emotionally incapable of making the decision anyway. The gates of the house are up ahead, littered with small posies tied to the wrought iron, doubtless containing many messages of sympathy at the loss of a brilliant pianist, artiste and also an excellent horsewoman in his daughter. They open automatically as we approach them. He clutches my hand so tightly that my circulation stops. Thin lips pulled taut across an even thinner face contorted into a grief I know so well. From somewhere deep within him where he has pushed every painful memory, there is overspill, too much grief to bear in one lifetime. As ever though, he is control, keeping it down, keeping it in. Hiding from a world that is all too painful for him to live in. I want to help him to learn to live again. Dear God, Dana, listen to yourself. He was probably happier with Liz ---, Elizabeth, than he would ever have been with you. He married her for godsakes, he must have loved her. They had two children, he was a family man. He has just lost his family. His eyes close briefly as the car pulls to a halt outside the impressive front door. The funeral car was dispensed with at the crematorium and his own personal chauffeur has brought us back. Many cars followed on and it seems that there will be a good number of people here to celebrate Elizabeth Munroe's life and career, as well as Elouise's. Before he leaves the car he turns to me and my heart flies to my throat. This is where he tells me that it was very kind of me to come, but! Perhaps I should make it easy for him, I look at my watch. "I think I should go now, Mulder." His face drops and a sadness hangs over him. "You don't have to, you're very welcome to join us." My heart crystallises into a lead ball as I look him in the eye. "I really should be getting back, I don't like to leave Mom on her own too long. After all, she's in her eighties now." He nods, turning to look out of the car window, avoiding my gaze, "I never thought to ask. How is she?" "She's keeping well. Thank you. She sends her condolences." "That's kind of her. Remember me to her." A silence pervades the car. "Will you keep in touch?" "If you'd like me to." His hand reaches across and rests on top of mine. "I'd like that very much, Dana." Reaching over, I kiss his cheek and he looks lost and bewildered, like a two-year old whose favourite teddy is being taken from him, but who lacks the eloquence to ask why. "Bye, Mulder." Tears threatening to spill down my cheeks, I stride down the gravel driveway, head down, not looking where I'm going until I feel another body pressed against mine. "Oh, I'm so sorry." I say, gazing directly at a well-dressed woman in her sixties with straight silver hair, a beautifully tailored silver-grey Chanel suit and silver rimmed glasses. Her smile is captivating and I feel compelled to talk with her. She links her arm through mine and begins walking back to the house. My feet follow her even though I know they shouldn't. "You're an old friend of Fox's then?" "Yes. We used to work together at the FBI. It was many years ago now though, over twenty." I turn to my companion as though we too are long-lost friends and smile warmly. "I'm sorry, I'm Dana Scully. And you are?" "I'm pleased to meet you, Dana. I worked as Fox's secretary for many years. He's such a good boy, so kind." She huddles in to me in a conspiratorial fashion, "I do believe he used to regard me as somewhat of a mother figure. I loved him as a son. I saw the way he treated people, he was so - so human with them. It was as if he knew _exactly_ what they were going through. As if he had personally experienced their pain." "He's never had an easy life. I expect you know that, working for him for so many years. Losing his sister was the catalyst for the rest of his life really. He was never the same after that. He worked slavishly to find her. He seems doomed to bear so much grief." My companion moves away from me, distancing herself, as if displeased with me. "You were leaving him again weren't you?" My cheeks feel hot as her words sting, my head drops as I nod my acceptance of her statement. "Why, Dana? He needs you, more than he can ever say. He used to talk about you all the time." "Did he?" I feel excited at the prospect, in spite of myself. I want to ask her what he said about me, but it seems inappropriate in the light of the circumstances we find ourselves in. By now we have reached the house and begin mingling with other mourners. My new companion has disappeared in the crowd. I have never felt so alone in my life, but I know that what she said was right. He does need me and I have to go to him. The hallway is huge and circular with an enormous staircase leading up to a galleried landing and down again the other side. In the middle of the intricate black and white marble floor sits a beautifully carved oak table. To call it a hall table is ludicrous, you could easily sit sixteen people around it comfortably. A delicately patterned china bowl is filled to the brim with white gardenias. Doors radiate from all angles off the hallway but two large double doors lead straight ahead and I can see this is where the majority of the guests are. It is either Mulder's private staff who are overseeing the catering arrangements or a firm have been contracted. Whichever, they are extremely professional and move amongst us, taking coats, offering refreshments and generally attending to our every need. Scanning the crowd I search for some sign of Mulder but cannot find him. Just as I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, I become engaged in conversation with one of Elizabeth's students from the Conservatoire where she taught. Fascinating though the girl is I am much more interested in where Mulder has headed off to. Extricating myself from the conversation, I make my way back into the hall meeting up with my 'friend' again. "I'm so glad you decided to come back, dear. Where's your coat?" Puzzled by her question, I reply a little distantly. "One of the staff took it. Why?" "When you find him, he'll be cold. Here let me show you." She takes hold of my hand and half drags me across the hallway to a door to the right. It opens into a huge, impressive room with a baby grand being the focus of attention. "This was her room. He was never allowed in here, it was her inner sanctum." As I scan the pictures on top of the piano, I'm stunned to not find one of her husband. "There's no picture of Mulder here." "Mm. She wasn't entirely happy about his previous associations with the FBI, his incessant search for Samantha. He never could let go of his past. I think she chastised him somewhat for not living his life to her standard." She can see my reaction, the horror I feel at what seems, on the surface, to be a loveless marriage. "He never gave up his search for Sam then? Liz, I mean Elizabeth, said she had persuaded him to." She smiles broadly and takes me by the hand, "She wanted him to, as I said, but he never would. He told me privately that he'd never give up looking for the two women in his life. Sam and you." I feel so drawn to this woman, she exudes such warmth, almost as if she has an aura or a halo around her. Her words have both stunned and warmed me. "He never gave up on me then?" "Oh no, my dear, never. Come now, let me show you his room." Back out into the hallway and along a few doors she takes me to Mulder's study and I expect to find something akin to his old office I suppose. As she opens the door, I gasp at the richness of the room. Books line the walls and there is an old leather armchair in front of an unlit open fire. Everything is dark, dark colours, dark wood, but so rich. "Not what you expected, eh?" "My face gives it away does it?" "Your heart gives you away, Dana. Here, take this." She takes an old black topcoat from the wooden hat stand in the corner, and hands it to me. As I reach for it, it smells of the old familiar Mulder, the Mulder I knew back then. The Mulder who was vital and alive, not this dead one who lives within this mausoleum created by a wife more interested in her professional image than her husband. I instinctively draw the coat to me, breathing in his scent. "Through the French windows, you'll find him in the garden. He'll be cold. He always was." "But I don't have my coat." "Wait, I'll fetch it for you." Before I can question her further, she has turned on her heel and left the room. Scanning the bookshelves I find books that Mulder used to have in his apartment, his quest for the paranormal never ceased it seems. Inwardly, he appears to be the same person he always was. The room is very masculine, very Mulder, there are few personal items except for a few photographs. One of his parents, together with Sam. One of Sam on her own. The statutory pictures of his wife and kids. His son was the image of him, a young Mulder. How I would have loved to have known him. Elouise was a beautiful girl with long golden hair and big blue eyes, she looked majestic atop her steed. His poor heart must be breaking at his loss. I notice a faded photograph tucked right at the back and my hand is just moving toward it as I hear the door open and she races back in with my coat. She is breathless, from running. "Take it easy." "You have so much time to make up, Dana. Now, go to him, find him. Give him all that you have. Go." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ The Grounds of Mulder's House As she told me, I find Mulder sitting in the garden. I survey him from a distance, almost too afraid to approach. Not knowing what he'll say, or even what I'll say to him. The weather is no warmer and I pull my own coat around me, still clutching his old one in my arms. Suddenly he spies me and tries to stand but I can see he has neither the energy nor the will to. The closer I get to him I realise that he is shaking with the cold and most probably his grief. I offer the topcoat to him and he looks grateful and confused all at once. "Who gave you this?" "Your secretary." He seems happy with this response and pulls the coat around his still shaking body. "Why don't you come inside, Mulder, it's so cold out here?" He looks so sad as he scans the house and looks down at his feet. "This isn't mine, Scully, it's hers. All hers. I had no say in it, it was what she wanted. Hers, all hers." He sits up and looks out across the garden, "Now this, this is mine, all mine." His bottom lip begins to tremble and I take his hand. "I'm sorry I walked out on you back there. I got scared." He smiles and the lines on his face seem to disappear. "We all get scared, Scully. All of us. What made you come back?" "Not what, who." We are interrupted by the crunch of gravel just a little way off. "Sir?" "What is it, Charles?" "Sir, some of your guests are intimating they want to leave. I think it may be prudent for you to come inside." "Yes, yes, of course, Charles. I'm sorry, I should have thought. I'll be there directly. Thank you." As the Butler turns to leave, I see a renewed energy and urgency in Mulder's features. He grasps my shoulders looking me straight in the eye. "You will stay won't you? We need to talk." My soft smile conveys my answer and hopefully any reassurance he feels he still needs. "I promise. I won't go away again, not unless you send me." He shakes his head and closes his eyes briefly, "Never, Scully." I stand and offer him my hand which he gratefully accepts, still leaning on me we walk towards the house. Today has taken its toll on him, physically and emotionally and although my presence added to that strain, I do believe I am being of some help to him now. I hope so. We enter the house through the French windows and return to his study where a fire has now been laid and lit. It casts a cosy glow around the room, the flickering flames reflecting off the highly polished wooden furniture. Making his way over to the fire he leans the palm of his hand on the mantle and drops his head to meet it. So much sorrow. He looks so tired and bereft. Pushing his chair nearer the fire, I take his topcoat from him and ease him down into the soft leather. He looks a little more relaxed and I pour a brandy for him from the decanter on the side table. He accepts it willingly, wrapping both hands around the crystal, sipping the amber liquid. There is a knock at the door and Charles re-appears bearing a tray. "I thought you and your guest may like some coffee, sir. It is very cold today." "Thank you, Charles. That's a very kind thought. We'll be out directly. Please stall Mr ---, Dr Mulder's guests for a few more moments. I feel sure he'll want to say goodbye and thank them for their support." "Shall I pour, madam?" "Yes, please." Charles busies himself pouring two coffees and makes a great scene of setting up tables to put the cups on. Mulder is taking little notice, I expect he's used to it. I'm still used to making my own in the kitchen and sitting with my knees up on the couch, sipping it from a big earthenware mug. Oh well, small china cupfuls are easier to drink and probably cool quicker. Everything in this house though seems to be for effect rather than pleasure. Mulder looks quite settled in the chair and the warmth of the coffee has the desired effect of bringing a little colour to his cheeks. We drink in silence and then I motion that he really should go say goodbye to his guests. "I don't think it's my place to be by your side, Mulder, for this, do you?" He sighs deeply, looking totally alone once more. "No, you're right. I need to do this on my own." He turns to me almost unable to speak. "You promise me you'll be here when I get back." He grips my hand, crushing it under the weight of his desperation. My heart turns over as I gently cup his cheek in my hand and kiss his forehead. "I promise." His grip loosens a little, but the intensity of it remains. "Please, Scully, don't leave again." I watch him shuffle out of the room to his waiting guests, giving me one last lingering look before closing the door behind him. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 4/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Curled up in Mulder's leather chair, in front of the fire, I feel myself doze intermittently. It feels warm and safe and cosy here in this room, so close to him. My dreams are pervaded by memories of the five years we worked together. It seems incredible that such a short time span can hold so many memories, but then we crammed an awful lot into it. At one time my memories were of cases, but as the years have dimmed the pain of those incidents, I remember more the relationship that Mulder and I shared. His social graces, of which he was groomed in abundance, turned out to be intimate gestures when directed toward me. If only he'd used these social graces on others he may have endeared himself to more people. But then, that's the way Mulder is. You get what you pay for with him. When he used to guide me, his hand in the small of my back, it made me feel so special, so a part of him, of us, of our team. What a team we made then, what a team we still make. I think. I hope. He needs to come to terms with these family tragedies though before we can even think of our relationship. I hope I can help him, rather than hinder. Then there were the times he kissed me in hospital, when he thought I was dying and he was losing me forever. The night he came to me so lost, he thought I was asleep but I knew he was there. Knew that not only was he afraid of what he was losing, he was also afraid of what he'd found. When he told me he'd found Samantha, that evening became so clear to me. Again, it was his incurable guilt that pervaded his actions. His deep grief that he'd found and lost Sam, that he was losing me, but more importantly his guilt in wondering whether it had all been worth it. There was Sam, happily married with children of her own, and he had been subjected to a life of self-torture and now involving me had led to my illness. Of course he would go off looking for a cure for me, it was inevitable but I always knew he was close. I felt him close then. I feel him close now. So close. Someone is shaking me, my eyes are fuzzy and unfocused from sleep, I close them tighter still but the shaking and the voice become more insistent. "Madam, madam. Wake up. It's Dr Mulder." The mere mention of his name snaps me wide awake and I sit bolt upright, wishing that I hadn't done so. My eyes scan the room searching for him and I feel I've almost gone back twenty years, the feelings are the same. "What is it, Charles? What's wrong?" "It's Dr Mulder, madam. He's collapsed in the hallway, the last of his guests had departed and he just, well, sank to the floor. I've called for his physician." "How long will it take for the doctor to get here?" "It could be up to an hour. Should we move him?" On my way to the study door, I shout over my shoulder. "Let's see how he is before we --- do that." I'm stopped in my tracks as I see Mulder's ashen form leaning heavily against the door jamb, he attempts a weak smile as I shake my head at him. Charles is by his side in an instant just as his knees give way and he begins to crumble to the floor. He catches him and carries him to the chesterfield on the other side of the fire. There is no weight to him and Charles deposits him on the couch as if he were a sleeping child. Other staff are despatched to fetch pillows and blankets whilst he watches over him as a worried parent would. "To be quite honest, madam, I'm very worried. He's so pale and well, with his heart condition." My jaw drops. "What heart condition?" "He was diagnosed with angina a couple of years ago, just after Master David, that was his son, died." Moving to the front of the couch, I take Mulder's wrist and check his pulse. It is racing but begins to slow down. I think it's just shock and fatigue that have caused the collapse, nothing more sinister than that. When the staff come back with pillows and blankets they leave me to arrange them and make him more comfortable. Charles disappears and comes back with a small silver tray on which is sat a tiny pill. He pops this under Mulder's tongue and brushes his hair back from his face. Mulder's eyes are still closed but he motions for Charles to go. "I'm fine now, Charles. Scully will look after me." "As you wish, sir. I'll bring Doctor Richardson through as soon as she arrives." As the door to the study closes, Mulder opens his eyes and pats the couch, indicating for me to sit by him. "You gave us a bit of a fright there, Mulder." He gives me the patented sheepish grin look and for a split second I see the Mulder of years ago. Not this tired, old man, for that is what he has become. I rearrange the pillows and tuck the blanket round him. "Don't fuss, Scully. I'm fine." I smile broadly, knowing that he is feeling better. "I thought that was _my_ line?" "Whatever. Come here." He beckons me to him, arms outstretched and enfolds me against his chest, stroking my hair. These gestures seem too intimate for the situation we find ourselves in. He's just lost his wife and daughter after all. I pull away and concentrate on the flickering embers of the fire. "What's wrong, Scully?" Waving a hand in the air, gesturing to everything and nothing, "This." "And what exactly is _this_. I'm tired, Dana. Don't play games with me." The colour rushes to my cheeks and I turn on him sharply. "I'm not playing games, Mulder. You've lost your loved ones today, I don't think this is appropriate behaviour under the circumstances." Gently he takes hold of my hand and studies my face for what is only probably seconds, but feels like an eternity under the intense scrutiny of those hazel orbs. When he does speak his words have such an impact on me that I am stunned beyond belief. "Scully. I'm old and I'm tired. I've been in a loveless marriage for longer than I can remember. The only happiness I've gleaned from life have been my two children and I've lost both of them now." He swallows hard and it's obvious that this emotional baring of his soul is difficult for him. "I've been foolish. God knows, you probably know that better than anyone. But I have. I've thrown away a lot of my life because I didn't ask for what I wanted. But, dear Lord above, I'm asking now." He hangs his head as his voice cracks. "I need you, Scully. You complete me." A silence pervades the room. "When I told you how I felt in the hallway all those years ago, I meant every word. I didn't want to go on without you. I _had_ to in the end. But I didn't want to. You completed me then, Dana. You still do. If you think my love for you is inappropriate then go ahead, walk away now. If you don't feel the same as me then it's best we part, because believe me I can't take any more." A lone tear tracks its way down my cheek. His face is almost impassive, but never have I seen him so intense, or verbal regarding his feelings. He pulls me to him again and this time I don't resist. I lay my head against his chest and our breathing becomes rhythmic as I feel him relax down into the soft leather. My presence is enough for him, I don't need to verbalise how I feel. Not just at the moment. Thankfully, he falls asleep and I pull away from him, just enough to watch him. He shudders at the sudden loss of warmth and cries out softly but seems comforted as I take his hand in mine and kiss it. He looks so beautiful when he's asleep, like a child, without a care in the world. All of the worry lines that have marched their way across his features over time just melt away and he looks almost like the Mulder I knew at the FBI. He isn't though, he is different. His whole attitude towards life is different. Not letting opportunities slip through his fingers anymore, grabbing for what he wants on a personal level. I feel it too. The years speed by even though the age you feel only creeps by. Suddenly they catch up with each another and you realise how much time you've lost. The changes in our physical appearance are so minute, we hardly see them happen. We only tend to notice them in others and particularly those whom we haven't seen for some time. Seeing Mulder after all these years has made me realise how time has sped by and I don't intend to waste another moment. This is the first time since this afternoon that I've really had the time, or the opportunity, to actually study his features. Those beautifully expressive eyes are exactly the same, somewhat deeper, more hollow and darker, but still there all the same. His cheekbones and jaw protrude just a little too much, but that is due to his grief and the fact that he probably hasn't eaten in days. Deep furrow lines have tracked their way across his brow and two deep creases have appeared at the end of silvery brown eyebrows. His hair has faired quite well, only his temples are truly grey, the rest of his hair is streaked uniformly with silver. It suits him, suits his colouring. He has lost some of his olive complexion as one does in the ageing process, his skin colour lightening to take account of his hair. He hasn't yet taken to wearing glasses permanently, but even that wouldn't be so bad. He always did look suave and sophisticated when he wore them. No, time has not ravaged Fox Mulder at all. Only life has done that. I trace a finger lightly across those full pink lips of his, bringing mine to rest on his in the lightest of gossamer kisses. Just to let him know I'm here. He smiles in his sleep and sighs. He surely deserves some happiness, and I intend to make sure he gets it. Hooked. Surely and certainly I am hooked on this man. A warmth wells up in me as I watch his breathing rise and fall, and I wonder how I could have left him all those years ago. We are soul mates, always have been, always will be. We fit together like the proverbial hand and glove and I feel such a sense of peace pervade my body, as if this is the harbour I've been seeking all my life. He awakes with a start and instantly his brow furrows as the day crowds in on him yet again. I place my hand on his cheek to reassure him I'm here, slender fingers cover mine. "Liz?" The most natural reaction in the world for him to think it's his wife. Bending over him, I place a kiss on his cheek brushing his hair back. "No, it's me, Dana." He sighs, his shoulders rise and two tears track there way down his cheeks and I wonder again what I'm doing here. "Shsh, it's okay. I'm here." I add soothingly. "I know," he grabs hold of my hand "but I still can't quite believe it all the same." He smiles, he still looks so tired but more relaxed. "Believe it. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." Leaning back against the pillows he closes his eyes and sighs. He lessens his grip on my hand instead caressing the side of it with his thumb, tracing circles. He looks content for the moment. "I meant every word of it. Before." "I know you did. And you have to know that ---" Stopping me in mid-flight, the door opens and Charles enters with a young woman hot on his heels. "Sir, Doctor Richardson is here." "Fox. Omigod, what happened?" She stops in her tracks as she realises there is someone else in the room. Charles has obviously briefed her as she extends a hand towards me. "Dr Scully. I hear you've been taking good care of my patient, but I'll take over now. So, if you'd excuse us." She can see she's annoyed me. I don't take kindly to having my noise put out of joint, and particularly where Mulder is concerned. Charles, in his usual, inimitable style, steps into the breach. "Actually, Dr Scully, I was hoping that you might come and advise Cook on a light meal for Dr Mulder." How could I refuse? Talk about diplomacy, the man dripped it all over the floor. Of course, I obediently followed him below stairs to speak to Cook, whom I imagined would be rather rotund with bright red cheeks. I was not to be disappointed. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Kitchen Mulder's House Same Day 7.00 pm Before Charles could do his big introduction of my name, title and rank, Cook came over and warmly shook me by the hand. "Miss Scully." Her soft Irish-American accent was barely audible but there nonetheless. "It's so good to meet you, Miss." She then grabbed me in a bear hug and continued. "Oh, so, so, good. I've heard so much about you from Pearl. Oh, to be sure, you'll not be knowing who Pearl is, will you? She used to be Fox's secretary." "Oh?! She spoke of me, then?" "Oh to be sure, constantly. She said Fox talked ---" Charles makes a perfunctory cough into a closed fist to make sure Cook is aware that she is stepping over the boundary of her station, and also breaking a confidence. "You'll be wanting something for that cough, Charles." "Cook! I think you've said enough." "You know that Fox is like a son to us all down here." Her comment was addressed mainly to me and the rest of the kitchen staff, her next comment though was addressed directly to Charles. "You feel the same, and to be sure you know it Charles Braithwaite. You treat him like a son too." The colour rises on Charles' face as Cook's words evidently ring true. "Mrs O'Neill, I really think you've said enough. Dr Scully came down to advise on a light meal for the master, not to be regaled with your Irish wit and gossip." Cook shot the Butler an evil look before puffing and blowing and returning to her stockpot. One of the young maids bid me sit at the huge scrubbed oak table and offered me tea. It's warm and cosy down here and I can well imagine Mulder feeling at home in what is, quintessentially, a basement of sorts. For all that Mulder had said this was Elizabeth's house, there seemed little sorrow at her passing and everyone seemed to be going out of their way to assure me of their loyalty to their master. I hadn't heard anyone talk about Elouise and wondered if she had, in fact, lived here over the past few years. Perhaps she had moved out when her brother had died. I doubted whether it would be long before I was made privy to this information from my rotund colleague who was now sitting opposite me, sipping tea from a china teacup. "One of my weaknesses, ma'am." She intones, raising the china cup, her little finger splayed out in a humorous attempt at high brow social imitation. "We ain't as grand as them there upstairs." She shot another look at Charles, and I suspected in that moment that there was some kind of relationship between them other than that of work colleagues. Charles' face grew red again and he turned on his heel and made for the stairs. "If you want me Mrs O'Neill, I shall be attending to the master." Mrs O'Neill gave off a raucous laugh as soon as she saw his tails disappear up the stairs. "You'll not be taking any heed of Charles, Miss." Now the staff have gone to clear the upstairs, Cook, covers my hand with hers. "I'm sorry to be so up front with you, my dear, but I do feel I know you. Pearl told me so much about you and Fox, and how well you worked together. How much he lo --- how hard he looked for you." She flushes and begins fumbling with her teacup. "More tea, Mrs O'Neill?" "Oh to be sure, are you not a grand girl?" "A little less of the girl I fear, Cook." The teapot is almost too big for me to handle, but I manage to pour her a cup of tea from it and place it down in front of her. "Do you like chocolate chip cookies, my dear?" "Mmm. How did you guess? They're my favourite." "Well, I have a little store of them. Here," she proffers a huge jar of cookies at me, "take as many as you like." "Thank you." "Now that we're all cosy and settled, I want you to tell me all about yourself." "Stop badgering her, Rosie." At the sound of his voice, she springs to her feet and drags out the chair beside me on her way to the foot of the stairs. Taking his arm, she guides him to sit down. "Oh, Fox, what are you doing up? Did that apology of a doctor say you should be up and about?" "Rosie." His voice is stern and humorous all at the same time. "I've told you, she's a good doctor. Not as good as this one here," he says, patting my arm, "but a good one even so. I won't hear you talk about her like this." Cook smiles ruefully tousling his hair. "To be sure, if you like her then so do I. How are you feeling my dear?" "I'm fine, stop fussing, Cook." "I'll fuss you all I like Fox Mulder. You're like the son I never had. Only don't tell Charles I said that." I begin to snigger, it's becoming more and more of a farce with every passing moment down here. "Oh, it's serious, Scully. Rosie and Charles are really serious." Now it's Cook's turn to colour up at Mulder's innuendo. "Now, now, master. You shouldn't go troubling yourself with the goings on of the downstairs staff." Mulder just sniggers and turns to me. "Have they been looking after you?" "Yes but we still haven't agreed on what to feed you." "I'm not hungry." Seeing my reaction, he continues. "Truly, Scully, I'm not." "You must eat something, Mulder. That's probably why you collapsed, you're exhausted." Rosie O'Neill nods vigorously from the other side of the table. "And to be sure the girl knows what she's talking about. Look at you, I've seen more fat on a chip, you never eat enough to keep a sparrow alive let alone a strapping young handsome man like you." "Oh, you flatter me, Rosie." "No, I do not. You'll bear me out won't you? He's the most handsome young man in this room." Breaking out into a grin that will quickly turn into a giggle if I don't stifle it, I have to agree with her. "Well, I can't argue with that now can I, Mulder?" "She has a way of putting words in your mouth, don't you, Rosie?" Solemnly placing a hand on her heart she rises from the table. "Master Mulder. As if." Then her round red face breaks into a luminous smile and she begins cackling to herself as she goes to stir her stockpot once again. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Mulder? I really should go." "But, Scully, you said you wouldn't. You promised." "I'll be back tomorrow, but I must see to mom." "Here," he fishes a mobile from his pocket, "call her, tell her you'll be staying tonight. I can easily get Charles to make up the spare room for you. Please, Scully." His eyes implore me not to leave him alone, to comply with his wishes. I know that mom will be worried but Amy will come and tend to her if I ask. I excuse myself from the kitchen and make my way back towards the hall to organise the other part of my life which now seems a thousand miles away. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 5/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Hall Mulder's House New York The phone rings several times before it's answered. "Hi, Mom. I was beginning to get worried when you didn't answer straight away." "Sorry, honey. I was talking to Amy, she's here." "Oh, can I have a word, and ask if she'll look out for you for a few days?" "No need, Dana. I rang Amy as soon as you left. I expected you'd stay with him. How is he?" "Oh, Mom. He's grown so old, he has a heart condition. He's in real bad shape. I promised him I'd stay, you don't mind do you?" "Of course I don't. I wouldn't expect you to do anything else. Give him my regards, please." "I will and --- thanks ---" "For what? Making you see sense and going to him?" "You knew didn't you?" "That's what Mother's are for, Dana. Now off you go and see to him. Just keep in touch, Amy's happy to stay so don't you worry about a thing." "Okay. Say hi to her for me and thank her." "Will do. Bye, honey." "Night, Mom. God Bless." As I finish the call to Mom, I can hear exchanges between Mulder and Charles. "Sir, I really think you should. You haven't been awfully steady on your feet of late." Mulder is motioning toward me with his head but Charles is taking no notice of him. "Sir, I'm sure that Dr Scully would agree with me." "I don't need it. I'm not a goddamned invalid, Charles." "I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort, sir. Just that perhaps it might be wise to have some support, it has been a very trying day." Charles is looking tired and he obviously wants to turn in for the night. Mulder is being obstinate as is his way and they are getting increasingly annoyed with each other. Taking Mulder's arm, I smile at Charles. "Is the fire made up in the study, Charles?" "Yes, madam." "Good. Will you bring us some coffee and then you get off to bed." "But, sir?" "No buts when Dana Scully is in charge, Charles. Anyway, can you make up the spare room for her, she'll be staying." He turns to me, squeezing my arm. "You are staying aren't you?" I return the gesture. "Yes, I am." We make our way slowly to the study and I settle him down by the fire, propping his feet up on the couch. "You don't need to look after me, Dana." "I know I don't have to. I want to." From behind tired eyes radiates the most wonderful smile as he visibly sags in the chair. "Good. I want it too." By the time Charles arrives back with the tray of coffee, Mulder has dozed off and we are able to have the conversation that Charles obviously wanted in the hall. "Madam? If I _could_ have a word?" "Of course, Charles, what is it?" "I don't mean to be presumptuous but I wonder if you realise the severity of the master's condition." "I am a doctor, but every case is different. What should I be looking for?" "He's finding great difficulty in walking. I realise that he's grief stricken at present but he finds the staircase increasingly difficult to cope with. Of course, he won't let me help him, but then you probably know that, knowing him as well as you do." We exchange a knowing smile. "Yes, I believe I do. Is it breathlessness he's suffering with?" "Yes, the stairs really tire him. I stay up each evening to make sure he gets to bed safely." "Well, there's no need for you to worry tonight, I'll take care of him. I'm used to it, I can assure you." "That does put my mind at rest a little. If it's no trouble." "He's never been any trouble, Charles." He can see the unspoken emotion in my eyes, he knows I love Mulder. "Yes, madam." He coughs his little 'Butlercough' and goes on. "Well, if that's all, I think I will turn in for the night. Your room is next to the master's, there are phones in all the rooms, my extension number is on the pad by yours, just ring if you need me." "Thank you, I appreciate how you've all accepted me so readily." "We all think very highly of him. Anyone who can help him through this has the complete support of the household. Well, I'll bid you goodnight, madam, and trust you sleep well." "Goodnight, Charles." Settling myself by the fire I pour myself a coffee and relax for few moments, coming down from the emotional turmoil of the day. I feel exhausted, so how Mulder must be feeling is anyone's guess. He looks peaceful at the moment, and if he's anything like he used to be, this amount of sleep is probably all he's used to getting. Perhaps I won't have to get him to bed at all. I really must sort something out in the morning. A couple of wheelchairs, one for upstairs and one for down should do it. And I'll organise a stair lift. I know he won't be happy, but he's obviously let himself go so much since David died. He really needs caring for. When he's calmer I want to get him into hospital and see what damage there is to his heart. I don't think there's too much to worry about, he's just not cared about himself and today has just been too much for him. It's shocked me, seeing him so old and frail. After all, he's only fifty seven, it's no age at all, but with his past it's no wonder he's ill. He just needs looking after and needs his strength and stamina built up. Perhaps some walks in the park. Thinking of walks in the park reminds of the Reflecting Pool and the times we shared on our bench there. There are so many times I wish I could go back to that time. A time when we were young and vital, but it isn't to be. This is life and we must make the very best of it we can. We're together now and that's how I intend to stay. Whether it be friendship, love or marriage I don't care. Just to be with him is sufficient and I think he feels the same way. Take each day as it comes and live life to the full. "Scully?" His voice drags me from my reverie and I turn to find him stroking my hair. "Come here." Lifting myself from the floor, I perch on the edge of the couch holding both of his hands in my own. "You look more rested. How do you feel?" He sighs deeply. "Worse than I thought I would. I miss Liz's presence I think, more than anything." Stroking his hands I bend to kiss each one in turn. "That's understandable, Mulder. I wouldn't expect you to feel any other way." A veil of silence drops between us and declining my offer of coffee, I suggest we get him to bed. He accepts and we make our way to the stairs. As one would imagine he tries to take the staircase two at a time. Taking hold of his arm, I urge him to stop and take a breath, literally. "Mulder, just one at a time, eh?" "I thought climbing stairs was good for the heart." "Taken at a steady pace all exercise is good. Just hold my hand and we'll do this together, slowly." He smiles bashfully, "Okay, doc." By the time we reach his room, his face is flushed and his breathing is quite laboured. Charles was right, his condition is more severe than I first thought. Just inside the door to his room I find the walking stick that he and Charles were arguing over when I was on the phone. I fetch it for him, he shoves it away angrily. "Mulder, it ---" "I'm fine, I tell you." I don't want to make him angry, that won't do him any good either. Tomorrow is another day and I'll try then. "Okay, but let me help you into bed. You don't look as though you have the strength to undress yourself." "Charles usually takes care of all of that." "Well, I sent him off to bed, he's exhausted too. So, you've got me whether you like it or not." "Be gentle with me, Scully." It cheers me to hear some of his old banter again. As, between us, we get him undressed I notice how very thin he has become. He always was lean and athletic but now I can see his ribcage quite clearly. It's no wonder Charles picked him up so easily, he's little more than a wraith. There are silk monogrammed pajamas set out on the bottom of the bed. The room is quite large and decorated in dark oaks and rich red tapestries. This is a far cry from his small apartment. How much of this would he give up for love though? I've seen him in many situations but few as grave as this. Back then it was them against us, but this is deprivation of the cruellest kind. Hers towards him and him against himself. Easing him back against the pillows is like attending to a child, there is hardly any weight to him. Against the sheets he looks even more ashen and old if that is possible. His long, slender fingers are splayed out in front of him as if it too much effort for him to lift them. "Have you found your room yet?" "It's next door apparently. I'll go get washed up and I'll be back." "Don't be long." He extends a hand to me to try to maintain physical contact for as long as he can. "I won't be." I whisper, placing a kiss on his forehead. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ My room is just as rich and grand as his. Like Mulder's the wood is dark oak but the soft furnishings are in black watch tartan, the navy and bottle green curtains in rich contrast to the maroon velvet bed throw. Soft brushed cotton pajamas are laid out on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. They too are black watch tartan. Silver combs and brushes adorn the top of the dark wood dresser, reflecting off the bevel edged mirror. Through an interconnecting door I find a bathroom decorated in the same colours. I would dearly love a bath but I know that Mulder will be waiting for me and I shouldn't take too long. I brush my hair and clean my teeth, slipping off the dark wool suit that I feel I've already lived a hundred years in, not just one day. Ever practical, I wash my under garments through and hang them on the radiator ready for the morning. It amuses me that Charles has placed toiletries and make-up in the bathroom, does that man forget anything? The soft warmth of the brushed cotton feels comforting on this cold night andthe full length chenille robe even more so. The navy chenille is monogrammed with a dark green 'M' which I'm not sure stands for Munroe or Mulder. Probably the former. I leave the lights on as doubtless I shall be back in the middle of the night. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ When I return, he's already fallen asleep, but I still sit with him holding his hand. He'll need this contact tonight to help soothe and reassure him. Suddenly he wakes and sits bolt upright his head in his hands. Gently I take them in my own and study his face. It is contorted with grief, he's trying so hard to not let go. So typical of him, doesn't he understand that I'm here to catch him should he fall? Fall, Mulder, I'm here. "Come on, move over, I'm cold, I'm coming in with you." A faint smile flickers across his face. "Dana Katherine Scully, what would I do without you?" No answer is necessary, we snuggle down under the comforter and hold each other until the warmth of our bodies mingle and we both fall into fitful sleep. I have dozed off a few times but my mind is whirring making sleep virtually impossible. Having someone in bed with me is unusual, it's been five years since Daniel died. There are advantages and disadvantages to this, on the one hand he is so warm to cuddle up to but on the other he's getting in my way and I'm also afraid to get too comfortable in case I wake him. Gingerly I turn over and lie there trying to make some sense of the day. After twenty years of not seeing him I end up sleeping with him in the space of twenty hours. I haven't the first clue what Charles will think in the morning. Having said that I'll probably be awake anyway, and who cares? We know that nothing is going to happen. We have settled back in to this comforter role that we both took on back then. My eyelids close and I'm just on the brink of falling asleep when I feel his shoulders shudder. Turning over I find him curled tightly in the foetal position, quietly sobbing to himself. Even at my touch he won't uncurl so I content myself with stroking his back, soothing him as best I can. As the sobbing becomes more pronounced he tenses even more. "Shsh." I say, stroking his back, running my hand down his arm, hoping he'll turn to me for the comfort he so desperately wants and that I so desperately want to give. "Shsh. Let it go, Mulder. Let it go." With a heart rending sob he turns over taking in big gulps of air as his grief washes over him completely. "I --- miss --- them --- so --- much." Another sob. "_So_ much. I want them back. How can I get them back?" What can I say? I felt the same after Daniel. I just wanted to be able to turn the clock back. Have him back with me, our shared evenings, our conversation, a shared career. He was a large part of my life and suddenly he'd gone and I was lost. Not as lost as I think Mulder is. Mulder has lost everyone in his family. How do you come to terms with that sort of grief? Very slowly, if ever. Tenderly I brush his hair back letting my fingers trail down the side of his face. God, he's so beautiful. Kissing his cheek I whisper. "You can't. But you still have me. I'm here for you." He turns toward me and brushes his lips against mine. It takes all of my willpower not to stroke my hands down those once strong limbs. A silk clad leg pushes over the top of mine as he begins a trail of kisses that start at my throat. "Scully, I need you. Please." "Mulder, this isn't right, it's not supposed to be like this." Sorrow has turned to anger as he sits up and swings his feet over the side of the bed, his eyes firmly fixed on the wall. "What's not supposed to be like this? Stop talking in riddles, can't you see I want you." "What you want," I shout back and then realise how distressed he is and calm myself, "what you need is support. Someone to lean on. Don't confuse that with sex, please." He begins to laugh, softly at first and then almost hysterically. "Sex. What's sex, Scully? I haven't had sex in," he waves a hand in the air, "in --- I can't fucking well remember when. Probably when Elouise was born and she's seventeen," he gulps and crumbles once again, "_was_ seventeen. She'd have been eighteen next week, Scully. We had this big party pla --- oh God ---" He drops his head into his hands and sobs uncontrollably. Kneeling behind him I snake my arms around him, covering his hands with mine, trying to make some kind of contact with him, to bridge this gulf that's opened up between us. Placing my hands together as if in prayer he kisses them and places them to his cheek. "I missed you so much." He begins to cry again. "Oh, Mulder." I can't hold back the tears anymore. "I missed you too." He turns into my arms and we lie down together, quietly letting the sadness of all those years spill over. Eventually he falls asleep, through exhaustion as much as anything else. I am far too pent up to sleep but afraid to get up in case I disturb him. As the cold light of day breaks over the horizon he nuzzles my neck and despite myself I feel a warmth pervade me that I haven't felt in years. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 6/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Just after daybreak I crept back to my room and languished in a hot tub. Checking my watch, I realise it's still only 6.45 am. Dressed in the same suit as yesterday I make my way downstairs following the delicious smell of coffee. Rosie is busy in the kitchen making breakfast for the staff. "Top o' the morning to you, madam." Charles turns round and scowls at Rosie. "Good morning, madam. I trust you slept well." "Does it look as if she has. She's most probably held the lad all night if his howling sobs were anything to go by." I colour just a little at her perceptive comments. Charles, noticing my distress pulls out a chair for me, offering coffee as a way of distraction. "I do apologise, madam. Naturally, you would have offered what comfort you could under the circumstances." He pours coffee and hands me cream and sugar to help myself. "You look like you could do with that? How is he?" Smiling tiredly I reply, "Bearing up, Rosie, just about bearing up." "Anything you need, madam. Anything at all, you only have to say." "Thank you, Charles. Actually, there is. Could you go out and fetch doughnuts and coffee?" The look of disgust on his face is apparent but he nods graciously. "Of course. Anything else?" "No. It's what we used to eat for breakfast, perhaps it will tempt him." Rosie has just pulled hot bread from the oven, the smell of it assaults my nostrils, making my stomach growl. "In the meantime, would you be liking some of this?" "Truly, Rosie, it smells delicious but I don't think I could." Carrying my coffee back up to Mulder's room I muse over last night, or this morning as it turned out to be. I couldn't have let that happen, it just wasn't right. He's still in shock and grieving for his wife and daughter. It was quite improper for me to climb into bed with him at all, let alone have anything more explicit happen between us. I'm sure he'll see it more clearly this morning. As I enter his room he rouses and calls me. "Morning. I'll let a little light in, okay?" He squints and shakes his head, patting the bed for me to sit by him. Carefully balancing my coffee on the edge of the nightstand which is almost too small for the lamp that's sat on it, I open the curtains slightly and sit down by him. It's almost trite to ask how he feels. He looks awful, his eyes are red and puffy, standing out even more against the white of his skin. "How are you feeling?" "Probably worse than you." He takes my hand and looks intently at me. "Look, Scully. About last night." Placing a finger on his lips I still him, shaking my head. "No. It does matter. It was wrong of me, I'm a selfish bast---" "Breakfast, sir." Charles enters carrying a huge silver tray and cover. Sometimes this place seems like something out of a movie. Do they really live like this? The scenario becomes even more farcical when Charles removes the cover to reveal the bag of doughnuts and take-out coffees I sent him out for. Mulder's eyes light up and he turns to me grabbing me by the upper arms. "Scully," the enthusiasm in his voice is infectious, "doughnuts, just like we used to ---" "Eat up, before they get cold." He eats like a starving man rescued from a desert island, washing the whole thing down with great slurps of coffee. Wiping his hand across his mouth he smiles. "Man was that good, or what? Brilliant, Scully. Just fu------", he colours, seeming abashed to be swearing in front of Charles. "Just brilliant, Scully." He begins to chuckle. "Brilliant." Just as suddenly he turns ashen, closing his eyes and swallowing furiously. His shoulders begin to heave and he clamps one hand firmly over his mouth, pushing me out of the way with the other. Before I have chance to move, Charles is by his side with a bowl and a towel. Unfazed by the whole incident, he holds Mulder's head over the bowl, wipes his master's mouth and places the towel over the bowl with practised ease. "It's a regular occurrence, madam. He eats so little that when he does his body rejects it." Leaving the bedside temporarily for Charles to clean up and for me to fetch a washcloth for Mulder's face, I'm grateful of a moment alone. "How much does he eat, Charles?" "Enough to keep body and soul and together, literally. He survives on coffee most of the day and usually has a pancake or some eggs for dinner." He shakes his head, the worry evident. "He's been like this since Master David died, Miss Elouise's death has just sent him over the edge." As I make my way back to Mulder's side, he is already on his way out of bed. Gently I steer him back under the covers. "Oh, no you don't. You're not going anywhere. Not today at least." He looks frustrated but I continue. "Things are going to change around here." He pushes me out of the way to get out of bed again but I push him back down. "If you get out of this bed today, Fox Mulder, you take the consequences." "And what would they be, Dr Scully?" He scowls at me. "Well," I stand with arms crossed, an eyebrow arched at him, knowing he understands I mean business, "if you so much as set foot out of that bed today, I'll have you in hospital hooked up to an IV drip faster than you can ---" "Okay, okay, okay. I accept." "Good, you didn't have a choice. And when you do want to go anywhere Charles will take you." His eyebrows shoot up. "I mean it, Mulder. You are not to _walk_ anywhere until I get things sorted." He eyes me suspiciously, "What sorts of things, Scully?" "Stairlifts, wheelchairs." His mouth drops open. "I mean it, Mulder. If you don't comply, it's straight to hospital for you." I turn to Charles, arms still folded, triumphant in the knowledge that I _know_ I've won. Charles tries hard not to smile but can't help letting a small one escape his lips. "I will be of service in any way that I can, madam." "Fine, that's settled then. Wherever he wants to go from now on you carry him, Charles. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll have everything else arranged." Mulder who has resigned himself to defeat, crosses his arms and looks at Charles pitifully. "She's the Wicked Witch of the North really, you know." "Funny, sir. We must have our stories mixed up. I thought she was the Fairy Godmother." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Below stairs must be buzzing but I have no time to go and see what the gossip is all about. Doubtless Charles will have regaled them with the tale of how Dramatic Doctor Dana held Mischievous Mulder at Mercy. More importantly, I have to sort out the equipment he needs. I really don't want to buy all of this, it will, hopefully, only be a short term arrangement. Perhaps if I approach a hire company or maybe --- "Hello. Dr Weston please." Her assistant informs me that my colleague is out. "Oh. Will you tell her Dana Scully called and that I'll call later? Tell her I'd like to borrow a couple of powered wheelchairs for a few weeks. And a stairlift if she can help me out. Thanks a lot. Bye." Wonderful. If I can pull that one off it will save a lot of hassle and money. Now for the more difficult part. I have commandeered Mulder's study for the day with him being incapacitated and feel rather grand amongst all these fine pieces of furniture. I shall have to organise the staff to move things round a little so that Mulder can manoeuvre his chair. I know he's furious with me but after that episode this morning I wonder if he can keep on his feet at all. It's little wonder he collapsed last night. My instincts are telling me that this heart condition of his is little more than a combination of stress, under-nourishment and grief. What a combination, but more manageable than heart failure. At the moment he's way too stressed and weak to send into hospital, he needs some building up before putting him through the barrage of tests that Dean will meet out to him. I just hope I can get an appointment for sometime soon. "Dr Dean Hamilton, please. It's Dr Dana Scully." Usually, you have to wait forever just to speak to him on the phone, my fingers are crossed that I won't need to today. An audible sigh escapes as I hear his dulcet tones. "You sound tired, Dana." "Dean, I am. How are you?" "Just fine and yourself?" "No, not really. I have a really big favour to ask you." "Fire away, I'll help if I can." "Dean, I have a colleague, well an old friend of mine who I've just met up with after twenty odd years. He's had a lot of personal tragedy in his life and been diagnosed with angina. Trouble is, I don't think he has a heart problem per se. Could you take a look at him? Go over with a fine toothcomb so to speak?" "Dana, I'd love to help but my clinic's are full to bursting." "I'll pay privately for him, double - out-of-hours - if you can see him. Anything, Dean, it means a lot to me." "Sure, Dana. I can tell from your tone how concerned you are. Let me look at my schedule. Is he fairly fit or not?" "No. He's quite weak at the moment, he's just lost his wife and daughter in a tragic accident." "Poor guy. Well, look give him a couple of weeks to get his strength back, keep him on his usual medication and bring him not next Wednesday, the one after. Say 6 pm. Is that okay?" He pauses. "Dana?" If I'm not careful, the sob in my throat will catch and Dean will realise just how much his favour does mean to me. Trouble is I'm having difficulty talking. "Dana? Hey, is this Fox Mulder, the guy you used to work with at the FBI?" "Yes." "Okay, now don't you worry about a thing. You give me a call if he gets any worse and I'll fit him in before then. If not I'll see you in a couple of weeks. And Dana?" "What?" "Don't worry, he's going to be fine." "Thanks, Dean. It means a lot." Blowing my nose I return to the task in hand, how to move things around to facilitate Mulder's movements for the next fortnight. Searching through Mulder's top drawer I find the index of all the internal phone numbers. There must be fifty extensions here. Good Lord, how big is this place? Running a finger down the staff section, I find Charles under X251 and X253, the same as the kitchen. Reckoning I'll find him with Rosie, I try the kitchen first. "Charles, could I see you? I'm in Mulder's study. I need to re-arrange furniture and I'd like you to organise it for me." "Well, I would, madam, but I've just had a call from the master's bedroom. He doesn't sound at all well." "I'll meet you there, Charles." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ The stench hit us as we got to his bedroom door. Charles went ahead and literally scooped Mulder up, indicating for me to open the bathroom door and run a tub. Thankfully, once he was undressed and immersed in the warm water, he looked better. Charles got the staff to clean up the bed and I suggested we move him to my room while the windows are opened and the room cleaned. "What do you think it is, madam?" "Some kind of stomach bug I'll wager. Probably why he collapsed yesterday, it's been coming on for a few days more than likely. He's so low at the moment he'll pick up anything and it will hit forcibly. Ask Rosie to send out for some live yoghurt, make sure it's live, the cultures have a calming effect and some bottled spring water. That should get him on the road to recovery." "Very well. Will you be all right with him?" He checks himself. "Sorry, I know you will, madam." "It's okay, Charles and hey, can we stop this madam? Dana or Scully. Either will do." "Okay, Dr Scully." I raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs his shoulders answering me in pseudo-American. "See what Butler School does for you." It's the first laugh I've had in all of twenty four hours. "I think we should move him now. I'll go organise my room." "I'll bring him through directly, mad--- Dr Scully." Shaking my head and smiling to myself I walk along the corridor to my own room to prepare it for its new occupant. Lying against my darker sheets, Mulder looks even paler than before. He seems to be running a temperature and tossing and turning constantly. He is rambling to himself which seems to be as a result of the fever. I dispatch Charles to call Amanda Richardson as my bag is still in my car at the chapel, and he tells me that Mulder and Amanda are good friends. Apparently she's at home today and even though she's not on call, she'll come straight out to him. Fetching a washcloth and bowl from the en-suite, I bathe Mulder's face trying to take away some of the heat. Nothing is ever incoherent with Mulder, not even his ramblings. He repeats Sam's name over and over again, interspersing it with whispered memories, the product of his tortured mind. Sometimes, he goes quite quiet and then a torrent will follow. His hand reaches out and grasps mine. "Liz? Is that you Liz? Where's Sam? Sam? Sam? Where's Scully? I need ---" He pauses and sighs as if content and then his brow furrows again. "Scully? Complete." A tired smile washes over his features and he's quiet once again. Amanda Richardson arrives within a quarter of an hour of being called and strides into my room as if she owns the place. I won't allow her to usurp me today though. "Good morning, Dr Scully. How's the patient today then?" "He's running a high temperature and ---" "Yes, Charles has told me. Now if you'd care to leave us." "I would actually." I stare her out. "Excuse me?" She returns the stare, amazed that someone would challenge her. "Who's the medical doctor here?" "Dr Richardson, he may be your patient, but he's my friend and I _am_ a medical doctor. You'll probably know me better as Dr Katherine Morgan." Her face doesn't belie her shock, she covers it well. "You used to be Consultant ME to the County Coroners Office." "You have heard of me then?" I smile, inwardly triumphant. "I can only apologise. I didn't recognise the name Scully." "Since retiring and my husband dying, I've reverted to my maiden name again." Our conversation is interrupted by Mulder shouting. "Scully, get out of here." His voice drops and he whispers. "Help me, Scully." A smile and a half-laugh. "Ticked off to get this detail." Then his face contorts with grief and anger and he screams. "Sammmmmm?" Amanda's eyes widen as she stares at me in disbelief. "What is he on about? Who's Sam?" Charles has returned with a young girl whom I presume to be Mulder's secretary, Jaclyn Hyatt. Well, that's what her name badge says. I've seen her name on correspondence in the study. She's gone quite pale and it's self evident that no one here knows who Sam is. Bathing his face and trying to soothe him, my own disbelief overwhelming me. "You don't know? ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Mulder's Bedroom A few days later With a course of anti-biotics from _Dr_ Richardson and all the attention he can muster, within the week he's well on the mend. Thank God. He had me going a few times there. I think I put Amanda in her place though when she realised who I was. Poor Mulder. No wonder he could never find me. When I left the FBI I was determined to leave my old life behind forever. Mulder was a part of that and as much as I would have dearly loved to keep in touch with him, my word was my bond. I had to do everything in my power to extricate myself from his life. I owed it to him, and to Elizabeth. I'd made a promise and Dana Scully never goes back on promises. When I met Daniel at a Forensics Symposium in the Fall of 1999 it was love at first sight. Looking back he was very like Mulder. Tall, dark and handsome. The perfect gentleman, he swept me off my feet with his charm and kind ways. He never was as needy as Mulder. In some ways I liked that. It gave me some emotional freedom, but in other ways I craved the wanting in Mulder. As time progressed and I became more and more involved with Daniel, I began to see my relationship with Mulder as something in the past. Daniel showed me that we, Mulder and I, had come together at a time in our lives when both of us needed the other. That what I felt for Mulder was no more than guilt at leaving him to continue his search, his quest on his own. Much as I loved Daniel though, our union was never as special as the one between my G-Man and me. Daniel doted on me, paid me more attention in a day than Mulder paid me in a month. But underneath it all, Daniel could survive without me and likewise, I could survive without him. We were independent people drawn to each other, living within each other's lives but not inter-dependent on one another. There were days when I was with Mulder when it was hard to draw breath if I didn't see him, and sometimes even harder to draw if I did. He overwhelmed me with the complexity of his make-up. He was a puzzle, an enigma but crystal clear at one and the same time. He was a challenge to me. The sparks flew between our minds and it excited us, both of us. But it grew beyond that after we parted. Hell, it grew _before_ we parted. It began to grow the moment I walked into that office and he looked up at me, so suave and sophisticated. I had to fight with everything in my power to keep control of my mouth when he said he thought I'd been sent to spy on him. God how true. I think the first time I really felt anything for him was that first case. He could have so easily raped me that night when I went running in fearing the worst. He could have easily laughed at me when I fell into his arms after he announced the marks were nothing more than mosquito bites. But then, this tightly bound man let out his soul to me. Bared his childhood memories before me and let me into his world. I felt honoured and privileged, excited and scared all at the same time. Oh yes, I loved Daniel, in all the normal ways that a woman loves a man but I respected Mulder. Still respect Mulder. For all his crazy, and not so crazy, notions, I looked up to him. I know I could never have made it through the black maze of my days at the FBI without him. He always thought of it as being the other way round. I was his light, his arbour, his shelter from the storm. I completed him. Yet, little did he know how much _he_ completed _me_. As I look down at his sleeping form, my heart swells with pride that I served as an officer with this man and with love that I've found him again. Whatever he tells me to do, I'm staying right here with him. No force on earth will make me leave him again. "Scully?" "Hey. How are you feeling?" "Like somebody put my head on a roller coaster." "We pumped some pretty powerful stuff into you. You were rambling with the fever." He smiles and his face lights up. "Did I disgrace myself, Scully?" Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze it. "You surprised a few people." "Why's that?" "No one seemed to know who Samantha was. What's going on?" He opens his arms to me pasting a lopsided grin over deeply turbulent eyes. Scooting up the bed I hug him fiercely and he returns the gesture, dropping his head onto my shoulder. The wetness of his tears moisten my skin as buries his face in my neck as I cradle his head with one hand and rub his back with the other. "It's okay, Mulder. Take your time." I feel his shoulders heave and a sob escapes with his strangled words. "How much time, Scully? How much time do any of us have?" "All the time in the world, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere. I promised you I'd stay and I always keep my promises." He buries his head further into my neck, clinging on to me. "Why did you go then? Why did you leave me when I needed you most?" Taking a deep cleansing breath, I sit up straight, knowing that it was only a matter of time before this subject needed broaching. He sits back against the pillows, his arms folded. Waiting. Short and sweet, I think is the order of the day. Put it together coherently and then you can always elaborate on it at a later date. "When we got back from the Arctic, I believed you to hold yourself responsible for what happened to me there. I didn't want you to take on any further guilt, you already had enough to deal with." He makes no move to interrupt or disagree with me. "After you'd met Liz, you two seemed to get on so well. I decided it was best to leave you to get on with your life. You didn't need anymore emotional baggage from me. Liz seemed to make you happy and so I left. It was for you, Mulder. To make you happy." There is a tinge of anger in his eyes and I feel stunned by it. "Oh. That's how it happened, is it?" "Yes. Why? Do you know of a different scenario?" He looks down, chewing his bottom lip but can't return my gaze when he looks up again. "Liz told me you'd found another man. She didn't tell me straight away, otherwise I wouldn't have made a fool of myself with all the cards and flowers. It was after we'd married that she told me that you'd left me for someone called Daniel Morgan." He looks straight at me, willing the truth from me. I'm so angry. Liz didn't have to tell him the truth, but a load of concocted lies? How dare she. He continues as I'm speechless. "So, I take it the relationship wasn't worth anything or else I'd be sitting here with Dr Dana Morgan." Sometimes, Mulder certainly knows how to hurt me. Biting down on my lower lip to stop the tears that have welled at the back of my eyes from escaping, I get up from the bed. "For your information, Mulder. Not that it's any of your business, I did marry Daniel. He died five years ago and I reverted to my maiden name again. I changed my professional name when I married to Dr Katherine Morgan. It wasn't just for professional reasons though." I'm beginning to get into my stride now, the anger that has been bubbling for the past few minutes is beginning to surface. "I did it to keep my end of the bargain. To keep to my agreement with Liz ---" Oh, Jesus. Now what have I said? His eyes are like saucers. "What agreement with Liz?" He whispers. "Nothing. Forget I said it." "What agreement with Liz?" He booms. I was on my way out of the door but the power of his voice stops me in my tracks. Suddenly I feel his full weight on my shoulders pressing down on them, turning me round. He lifts my chin with one slender finger. "What agreement with Liz, Scully?" I close my eyes briefly, sighing deeply. I have to tell him. If we are to go forward, to have any kind of future together, we need to get this out in the open. He needs to know that I didn't just walk out on him back then, that I didn't just ignore his flowers, his notes and his protestations. I try to lower my head but his finger keeps it at an angle where only by closing my eyes can I avoid his gaze. "She made me agree never to see you again. She said you were happier without me and I was to keep away from you." I'm not sure what reaction I expected, but it wasn't the one that I got. He stands there, his mouth and eyes wide open, the shock and utter disbelief registering on his face like a beacon on a pitch-black night. His jaw his working but no words are coming forth. He turns and walks back to the bed sitting heavily on the side of it. Unsure of what he's going to do next, I wait by the door. He turns on me, eyes blazing with anger, the bitterness and incredulity in his voice overflowing. "And you believed her? You fucking well believed her, Scully. We had five goddamned fucking years together and you believed her. Believed _her_ over me. How could you? How could you walk away from me on her say so." "Don't you throw belief at me, Fox Mulder. You seemed happier with her. You seemed more content with her. She didn't make you feel guilty. I did, and I couldn't take that any more." He hangs his head, the tone of his voice dropping with it. "Couldn't you see?" Moving to the side of the bed, I drop to my knees trying to make eye contact but he won't return it. "See what, Mulder? All I could see was a man in self-destruct mode. You were killing yourself with your guilt. Every time anything happened to me, it was your fault. Never circumstances, never fate, always, always _your_ fault. I couldn't take that any more. I couldn't stand by and watch you ---" a sob escapes unbidden, "I cared too much, Mulder." "How could you have cared too much? You left me. I've never felt so alone, so incomplete. You tossed me aside and I just --- drifted. I didn't know what else to do." Slender fingers clench and unclench as he bares his soul. "After I'd sent all the flowers and the notes and you hadn't replied to me, Liz took me in, literally. Anchored me and --- and ---" he takes hold of my hand, "eventually plucked up the courage to tell me you'd found someone else. I was devastated. Absolutely devastated. She loved me, Scully. For a while, she loved me, when I had no one else to." Squeezing his hand it's my turn to prop his chin up in order to make eye contact with him. What a bitch this Liz was. I have to explain to him, or else we have no chance of making it past today, let alone into the future. "Mulder. Liz and I made a deal for me to keep away from you. That deal was made not long after we came back from that near-fatal trip to the Arctic." He squeezes my hand so hard and I return the unspoken gesture. "You were so consumed with guilt for my safety and we were mixed up about our feelings. What never happened in the hallway. We were both so vulnerable then." I clear my throat, feeling a little stronger to continue. "I didn't meet Daniel until the Fall of 1999 and I know you and Liz didn't marry until the Spring of 2000 because I saw it in the papers." The tears well up in my eyes and throat again. "I didn't leave you for another man. I left you for your sanity, Mulder. I left you because I loved you." Now it's his turn to choke back the tears. "So we've just wasted twenty years, Scully. Damn Liz. Damn her. She's the one to blame in all this." Cupping his face with my hand, I trace my thumb across his cheekbone. "No one's to blame. It was just circumstances. If we can forgive then we can move on. I want us to, very much." Covering my hand with his own his brings his lips down to meet mine, just brushing them. "Oh, Scully." His arms encompass me crushing me to his chest. Snaking my own arms around him we hold on to each other for the longest time. As he breaks the embrace he tips my head up and what began in his hallway in 1998 is finally completed, twenty years on. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 8/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Mulder's Study Three Weeks Later The cold weather has set in with a vengeance. Even though it is December it still seems uncommonly cold. The air is damp and we've turned the heating up more than a few notches these past few weeks. After the bug had struck Mulder and he'd taken the medication he seemed to regain some of his strength. As I thought, he was not happy about the wheelchair or the stairlift, but acquiesced that it was in fact better to have some personal mobility and dignity, rather than have Charles carry him about everywhere. Dean saw him for the tests on the appointed day and as I had already suspected, his heart wasn't in as bad shape as Amanda Richardson had feared. She only prescribed a very mild relaxant but had felt that further investigation was necessary. It was Mulder's own stubbornness in refusing the very tests that, ironically, would have proved that it was just the stress of David's death that had brought on the symptoms. I have to admit to heaving a great sigh of relief when Dean told me that even though Mulder wasn't exactly fit, and he did have mild angina, that with good nursing and a better diet he should be back to full health within three months. Dean also suggested some stress counselling which I thought was a good idea but Mulder knocked that one on the head. To be fair though he does look so much better. He's put on a little weight and the colour has returned to his cheeks. Next week I've told him he can have a reprieve from the wheelchair and begin to take walks in the park. He seems genuinely pleased and more than willing to obey my instructions. It seems unreal that I don't have a constant battle with him nowadays over his health. I've also got a surprise in store for him. A dog. Walking is so much more fun with a dog, so I went to the rescue centre and picked out an adult Old English Sheepdog. Her name is Panda and she's absolutely adorable. I can't wait to show Mulder. He'll fall in love with her too. We've taken to sharing a bed at night, for warmth and comfort more than anything else. Until he gets his strength back he's off-limits doing a lot of things. Strangely enough he doesn't seem too bothered. He seems content for us to lie together, just cuddling with the occasional kiss. It suits me fine, I don't want to rush into this relationship. It took twenty years to find one another again and even though we both realise we don't have all the time in the world, we also know that you have to walk before you can run. Yes, all in all, it's been a good few weeks. He's still very down about Elouise's death, he hardly speaks of her, preferring to speak of David who he obviously adored. Elouise had moved out apparently when David died and found a flat for herself. Not too far from Central Park in a nice area. Rosie never did proffer that information, Mulder told me in one of his rare moments of talking about her. Elizabeth's name has not crossed his lips since that morning when he found out why I'd left him. It pains me somewhat to know that it was me who pushed the final wedge between him and her memory. As I look out through the French windows I can see Mulder sitting in his chair. Charles wheeled him out there and for the life of me I just can't see what the attraction is. The sky looks as if it has an avalanche of snow to give up and Mulder's wrapped up like the abominable snowman. His ex-secretary's words come back to me when I saw her at the funeral. "When you find him he'll be cold." He must always have sat out in the garden. Seems it was the only place he felt comfortable, could be himself. "Hey, Scully. It's beautiful isn't it?" "It's freezing, Mulder. Why don't you come in?" "Good fresh air, Doctor. Surely what you should be ordering." The twinkle in his eye is making a rapid reappearance. "I didn't order pneumonia and that's what you'll get if you don't come in now." He crosses his arms and pretends to look aloof. "I've been meaning to ask you, Mulder. Who is that picture of in your study? You know the faded one at the back. Only I saw her at the funeral." "You couldn't have, Scully." He looks straight ahead offering no more. "Mulder?" "Take me back in, Scully. It's way too cold out here." As I wheel him back through the French windows and into the study, he begins to talk about Pearl, the lady in the photograph, and how long she worked for him. Most of the time he and Elizabeth were married it seems. "Scully, are you sure it was the woman in the photograph?" "Sure I'm sure, Mulder." Wheeling him over to the fire he moves across to the chesterfield himself and sits there looking a little stunned. He refuses my offer of brandy so I take the opportunity of drinking it myself after his next statement. "Scully, we buried Pearl five years ago." For the all the years I've known him and worked with him I still don't believe in the paranormal. And now, here he is telling me I was talking to the ghost of his dead secretary. It's too much to take in. It seems to have hit him hard too. Through tented hands he speaks so quietly I have to sit on the floor beside him to hear. "Pearl was ---" the tears catch in his throat, "she was like a mother to me, Scully." "She told me how much she loved you. She said you were like a son to her." God, I'm talking about a _ghost_? Mulder is so distressed about this though I feel I must go along with it, for his sake. "She did love me and I loved her. She offered me love and support when there was no one else to give it. Not long after Liz and I married, mom died." I convey my sorrow at the news by gently squeezing his hand. He dismisses the gesture. "There wasn't much sadness at her passing. Pearl had already taken her place. She took me under her wing. Treated me like a son. Almost from day one Liz gave me a hard time about the FBI, Sam in particular and of course, you." My eyebrows shoot up. "Me? Why?" "Because I never stopped looking for you, talking about you. It annoyed her. She said I never let go of the past. Pearl was the only one I could talk to. Eventually, I stopped talking to Liz, stopped doing anything with Liz. There isn't," his face clouds with grief, "there wasn't much between Elouise and David. Under a year in fact. Liz wasn't too happy when she found out she was pregnant again with David, so she stopped all conjugal rights." He drops his head into his hands. Moving beside him I slip my arm around him, offering what little comfort I can. "She punished me, Scully. Punished me for giving life to a child. He was just a baby, but it was all my fault. Everything was my fault." "Don't torture yourself, Mulder." He stares into the fire looking lost. "Pearl said you never gave up looking for Sam." "I didn't. I couldn't let Liz know that. She already made my life hell, I couldn't let her know I was still looking for Sam or for you." "She said you never gave up on me either." "Never, Scully." He hides behind tented hands again. "I looked everywhere for you. Where did you go?" "To California with Daniel. He had a practice over there and we worked together for most of our married life. We came back East ten years ago and I got a job as Consultant ME to the County Coroner. I retired when Daniel died, five years ago, and reverted back to my maiden name. Most professional people know me as Dr Katherine Morgan." He shakes his head, not making eye contact. "And all this was designed to stop me from finding you?" "More or less." I squeeze his arm, my guilt overflowing. God, what he's gone through on my account. "You never did tell me what brought you back on the day of the funeral." "It was weird really. I got out of the car and I was hurrying down the drive when I collided with the woman in the photograph. She just swept me along and brought me back to the house." He looks at me so intently, years of unrequited love shining in his eyes. "Don't you see, Scully. It was meant to be. You weren't meant to leave me again." I don't know if it was the ghost of his dead secretary I saw, but I know she brought me back to him and for that I am eternally grateful. Returning his gaze, I smile and answer him softly. "No, Mulder, I don't think I was. And I don't mean to leave you ever again." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Central Park New York One Week Later I was right. Mulder fell in love with Panda, the Old English Sheepdog, as soon as he saw her. And naturally she fell for him too. Well, who wouldn't? They've been constant companions since I brought her home and to be honest, I'm feeling just a little jealous. This is her first real walk today with both of us. I've been walking her, training her on the lead so that she doesn't pull Mulder over. She is very boisterous. Mulder can't walk too far but Charles comes with us and parks one end of the road and the three of us walk down to him. He's getting stronger every day and, thankfully, his appetite has increased. In general terms I believe he's happier than he's ever been. That happiness is certainly showing in his features. His face is fuller having lost some of the hollowness that made him look so old. At the moment, Panda is running wild and Mulder and I are strolling along arm in arm. A warmth runs through me, settling somewhere near my core. I knew this was going to happen. I've always loved Mulder but spending all this time with him I think I've now fallen in love with him. I squeeze his arm with mine and he looks down at me tenderly. "Tired?" "No." I shake my head, looking at my feet. "C'mon. Let's sit over here." He ushers me toward a bench a few feet away settling me down on it as if I was the invalid. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, Mulder. Nothing at all." He points toward the dog, beaming at her antics. She's throwing a stick up in the air and whirling round, catching it again before it hits the ground. "Just look at her, she's mad." "She's full of energy. I wish I had that much." "I said you were tired, it's all this nursing me." "Don't be silly, it's not. It was just a figure of speech." "Why did you get the dog, Scully?" "I thought it would be good exercise." "Who for, me, the dog or you?" I squeeze his arm again, cuddling up to him. "All of us, silly." "All of us sounds wonderful." He beams, looking off into the distance. "Why'd you call her Panda?" "I didn't, it was what the rescue centre called her." "Oh, not Queequeg then?" I swipe his arm and he ducks, tucking his arm around my waist, leaning in and kissing my neck. Oh God, there goes that flood of warmth again. I slip my arms around him and it takes all my willpower not to rip his pants off on this park bench and have my wicked way with him. This is the first public show of affection since we met again and it's fun. Mulder and I are playing around on a park bench and it's fun. Well, it was fun until a large wet nose burrowed its way between us. "PANDA!" we say in unison. "Nice dog, Dr Mulder." Both our heads jerk up, neither of us having realised there was anyone around. A broad grin appears on Mulder's face as he sees the dishevelled old woman carrying all her worldly goods in a plastic bag. "Hello, Annie. How are you?" "I'm okay. More to the point, how are you? Are you better?" "Much better, Annie. Much better." He links his arm with mine. "Had my own personal physician to look after me." She smiles showing decaying teeth. "Now, that's what I could do with. My own personal physician. Care to take on the job, Doctor?" She bows to Mulder and begins to cackle, a laugh which quickly turns into a hacking cough. After a long bout, she clears her throat. "I think I'd scrub up darned pretty." Mulder reaches into his coat pocket and presses something into the old woman's hand. "You would, Annie. Now go get something for that cough." He flashes a grin at her, squeezing my arm. "If I didn't have my lady friend here." She takes at swipe at him with her plastic bag. "Be off with you, you womaniser." "Annie, you wound me." The old woman turns to me and smiles. "You take good care of him now. He's good to me. And my friends." As she ambles off into the distance, the dog comes back and sits down by our feet. "Who was that?" I ask. "Annie." He states flatly as if the mere mention of her name should satisfy all my curiosity. "How does she know you, and how did she know you'd been ill." "I've seen her a few times in the park." The set of his face tells me that he doesn't want to discuss the subject further. Arm in arm we walk back to the car, Panda following on our heels. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 9/12 NC-17 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com NC-17 Mulder's Study Evening of the same day The wheelchair is dispensed with now Mulder is more active around the house. To call it a house is an understatement. It's huge, a mansion more like and overlooks Central Park. A very nice location. I have yet to have the full guided tour but it seems that only about a third of the rooms are used. Mulder prefers to live in three rooms, typical of him, the study, his bedroom and the kitchen. I often find him downstairs bending Rosie's ear with some tale of alien abduction. Bless her, she listens to him and nods in all the right places. She cooked us a lovely chicken dinner tonight and Charles has brought coffee through for us. My intent is to have a quiet evening in front of the fire. I must be getting old, no more chasing mutants for me. Mulder's busying himself putting some music on and the dog is laid out on the hearth, all four legs outstretched, fast asleep and snoring softly. "That's nice," I say, referring to the music, "what is it?" "Sibelius." "Mm." I scoot up one side of the chesterfield, patting the cushion so that he can sit down by me. "Come and sit down, you've had a busy day." "I only went for a walk, Scully." He says incredulously. "Even so, it's tiring. You haven't been well and I intend to look after you." He sits down, taking my hand, looking intently at me. "Twenty years ago I would have said I didn't want that, even though I did really. Now ---" He stops and looks down at his hands, sighing. "Now it's what I want more than anything and I'm not afraid to say so." His hand snakes up my back and rests at the base of my neck. Applying just the slightest pressure he pulls my head towards his, seeking out my lips and kissing me so gently. He pulls away slightly, placing his thumb and forefinger on my chin and I see his eyes dilate until they are dark pools of passion. "Scully, I love you." Without waiting for an answer he brings his lips down on mine again crushing me under the weight of his need. A warmth engulfs me that I haven't felt in years, have probably never felt this intensely before as he continues to ravage my lips. He tastes so sweet, this is so unlike the kisses we have shared the past few weeks. This isn't a comfort kiss, this is passion. Taking his face in my hands I caress his cheeks and run my fingers through his hair. His moans excite me more and more and I begin opening the buttons on his shirt exposing his chest. Running my fingers down his ribcage and snaking my way around his back, the warmth of his flesh intoxicates me. He peppers a trail of kisses from my mouth, down under my chin and neck and surfaces to nibble my ear lobe. The warmth spreads more, uncoiling itself in my belly like some huge snake eager to get out. The intensity of the feelings begin to overwhelm me as I feel his hand slide over the silk of my shirt and come to rest on my breast. He waits momentarily, evidently seeking reassurance that he can proceed, when he garners no resistance from me he caresses one breast, then the other. Opening the small pearl buttons he reveals my lace bra and slides his hand around the back to flip open the fastening. I gasp as he lifts the cloth and nuzzles down, suckling my nipple. My hips buck involuntarily and spurred on he continues his ministrations apace. I can't believe that he hasn't touched a woman in almost twenty years. It's only been five years since Daniel died and I feel somewhat vulnerable and unsure but extremely willing to pursue this with him. Just not at this excruciatingly slow pace. Moving my hand down to his waistband I flip open the button and begin to pull down his zipper. He moans and readjusts himself on top of me so that I can't reach him. I content myself with massaging his buttocks pulling him against me as my pelvis continues its upward thrusts. We move to the floor, the couch being too restrictive. The dog moves and takes up residence on the now warmed cushions as we writhe together in front of the fire. It's easier now to reach him and I take the opportunity to trail a finger down inside his zipper, along his silk boxers. He pulls my hand away, pushing my skirt up out of the way and pulling my hose down. Deft fingers trail their way down the seam of my panties until they reach my crotch and he drags the back of his finger along it, continuing his trail up the other seam and then along the top seam, just touching my flesh. The wetness is pooling and my breathing is shallow and laboured. There is no smile on his face just an intense concentration. After what seems like hours he pulls my panties down and begins to stimulate my clit, changing direction and pace as my moans and breathing dictate until he has wrenched his name from my lips as I spiral downwards in complete and utter ectasy. "Oh, Mulder. That was wonderful." "Good. There's more where that came from." He lies on his back, his face turned toward the fire, the rosy glow it casts makes him look marginally healthier than he is and it suits him. Cuddling up to him, I lazily drape one leg over his. "God, I'm so glad I found you." "Are you, Scully?" My brow furrows, the tone of his voice sounds very unsure. "Of course I am." He turns to face me. "I love you, Fox Mulder." I can see the tears well up in his eyes as he struggles with the emotion. "I love you too, you know that." "Yes, I do." Reaching down again I begin to pull his pants down. "Let me show you how much, Mulder." Before he can protest, I have the offending clothing plus socks in a heap and he lies before me with nothing on but his black silk boxers and open black shirt. I quell my desire to mount him straight away contenting myself with trailing a finger lightly down the bulge in his boxers and watch as he closes his eyes. Slowly I pull the waistband down over his slender hips and away down his long, lean legs. How did he get to be so beautiful? Gently prising his legs apart I pepper his inner thighs with a light trail of kisses, briefly nuzzling him with my nose as I move from one leg to the other. It seems not to be having the desired effect so I change my attention to kissing his lips and making soft circular movements on his scrotum. He moans and my tummy turns over, I am exciting him after all. Encouraged I move up his penis and begin small circular movements with my thumb, just on the delicate skin at the tip. He gasps, goes rigid and then turns away from me onto his side to face the fire again. Slipping my hand over his hip I can still reach him and kissing his back I continue to caress his penis but he pushes my hand away. "Are you tired? We can always save this for another day." I feel him nod and then pull himself into a ball. "It's okay, Mulder. It doesn't matter if you don't want to." Still facing the fire he shakes his head. "It isn't a case of don't, it's a case of can't." The light suddenly dawns, with his age and his general poor health and circulation, plus the heart medication he's been on, he can't get an erection. Pressing my face up against his back I whisper. "Mulder, what you have is erectile dys---" He turns over sharply and looks me straight in the eye. "Scully, I don't need the goddamned fucking medical term for it. I can't get it up. That's all there is to it." He sits up and leans back against the chesterfield struggling to pull his boxers up his legs in an attempt to cover his manhood. "Okay, okay. But hear me out will you." "Sorry." "It's more than likely the medication you've been on, it can cause that sort of thing." "But I've been off that now for almost a month. Surely, if it was that I would be okay now." "Not necessarily, Mulder. Yes, the drug has probably worked its way through your system by now, but I can feel how tense you are. These things are psychological too. If you're expecting to fail, you will. How long as this been going on?" "Since David died." "And that was when you started taking your medication." "Yes." "And before then?" It seems such a personal question, but I need to know how long this has been happening. "Before then, Liz and I weren't having an active sex life." "No. But were you?" "Not with anyone else, Scully. Just solitary ---," he looks down, a little ashamed, "just me --- you know." Taking his hand, I kiss it. "I know, Mulder. Me too." His eyes grow wide like saucers. "You too?" Shaking my head, I laugh. "Of course. Frequently." The amazement is still evident in his features as if realising for the first time I am a sexual being as opposed to his sexual fantasy. He tries hard to pull back to the conversation. "So there's hope for me yet, Scully?" "Of course there is. Just give it some time, it will happen. I promise." God, I just hope this is one promise I _can_ keep. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Christmas Eve 2018 Mulder's Study Mulder has been acting rather strangely all day and I'm not altogether sure it's just because it's Christmas Eve. Every time I've caught sight of him he's ducked around a corner or given me that stupid grin of his that I adore. I'm seriously beginning to wonder what he has up his sleeve. We spent ages sorting out a Christmas Tree and Charles was insistent that it was the staff's place to trim it. I feel sure they thought I was quite mad when I said Mulder and I would do it. I don't think I've ever had so much fun. Doing anything with Mulder is fun but Mulder _and_ Panda. Well, talk about the dynamic duo. What with Mulder hiding everything on purpose and the darned dog playing with every bauble and light both before and after it went on the tree, it was just chaos. It looks wonderful though. This room has taken on the mantle of being ours. We live in it more than anywhere else in the house. It's so cosy and comfortable and it's so Mulder. We decided to exchange presents tonight as I have to go see Mom and Amy tomorrow. It's been almost six weeks since I've been home and I feel dreadfully guilty. I'm taking Mulder over for lunch and given the staff the day off. They said they hadn't spent Christmas with their families in as long as they could remember. I feel a bit sorry for Charles though, I don't think he has a family. Still, I'm sure he and Rosie will make good use of his house in the grounds over the holiday break. Hearing noises in the hall I move toward to door to investigate. "Don't come out, Scully. I'm coming in," Mulder announces as he struggles through the door with a huge cardboard box. He offers the box to me with a big grin on his face. "Merry Christmas, Scully." "It isn't Midnight yet, Mulder." I retort. "No, but this couldn't wait. Open it up. Come on." The impatience in his voice is contagious and I dive into the top of the box, pulling the four panels apart that he has expertly interwoven to create a lid. As I open up the top of the box, the biggest pair of amber eyes I've ever seen look up at me. Sitting huddled in the corner of the box is the sweetest little bundle of tabby fluff and fur I've ever seen. My eyes open like saucers as I gasp. "Oh, Mulder. She's beautiful. Is she mine?" "All yours ma'am," he bows graciously, "don't call her Queequeg though, _please_?" "What about Tooms?" He pulls a face and we both laugh. Picking her up gently so as not to frighten her I hug her to my shoulder. "Oh, she's so tiny. Hello, gorgeous. It's a good job that Panda was brought up with a cat. Did you think about that before you got her?" His sheepish grin says it all. Would Mulder think of something as mundane as that? Of course not, that's why I love him. "Nope. But I did get Rosie to look after her tomorrow while we're out. Do I get a Brownie point for that?" "Okay, just the one though." I say smiling. Panda, of course, comes to investigate what I have in my arms and after a few growls and some spitting they seem to accept each other. When the dog goes to lie down in front of the fire the cat follows and curls up in the hollow of the dogs tummy. "They look so sweet together. How did you know I wanted a cat?" "Dunno. Just thought you might like one. You gave me Panda and I wanted to give you something back." "You didn't have to." "I know. I wanted to. And I have lots more presents for you later." "Oh, Mulder. You shouldn't have." We curl up together on the couch watching the fire and our new 'family'. "When do we exchange?" "Midnight, of course. You set the rules. You can't go breaking them." Turning to face him, I cup his cheek. "If there were no presents, Mulder, I wouldn't care. I have everything that I've ever wanted. Santa has been good to me this year." He looks at me so earnestly that I feel my heart flip over. "I never thought I'd see you again, Scully. This isn't Santa - this is a miracle. Oh, God." "What? What's wrong?" "Look --- outside --- it's snowing." Practically dragging me to the French windows we stand and stare out at the soft flakes of snow falling steadily on the garden. My emotions overpower me and I turn and hug him fiercely, the tears beginning to fall. He realises and turns my chin up to meet his gaze. "I love you so much, Scully, it hurts." "I know, I feel the same." "I had this speech planned and I was going to wear my tux and --- but now seems the perfect moment." "The perfect moment for what?" From the top pocket of his jacket he produces a tiny satin pouchette with little drawstrings that are held together by two gold hearts that interlock. Carefully, he prises the two hearts apart and opens up the bag. "Open your hand." I do as I am bid and into it he tips the most beautiful emerald cut emerald and diamond ring I've ever seen. He smiles at me and my heart flips once again. Taking my free hand he brings it to his lips and places a chaste kiss on my fingertips. "Dana Katherine Scully, will you do me honour of becoming my wife?" I think I'm too stunned to answer but I must nod because in the next second the ring is on my finger and we are locked in a timeless embrace. Just before Midnight he produces more presents, amongst which are a beautiful designer outfit in ivory silk. A short dress, a full length backless dress and a waist-hugging jacket. "Mulder, this is beautiful. But it looks like it's an occasion outfit." Without a word he offers me the next two presents which are yet more velvet ring boxes. As I open the first one he offers me, I see a plain platinum band to match the engagement ring he has given me. The look I give him is so full of love, I can see it reflected back in his own eyes. "I don't want to wait, Scully. I want to marry you now. Say we won't have to wait." He produces a piece of paper from his jacket. "Ta da!" "What's that?" "A marriage licence for the day after tomorrow. We have the rings, you have an outfit. Marry me, Scully. I can't wait." "But, Mulder. It's all too soon." He is crestfallen until I explain that I want my family around me and I'd love to marry him but could he give me a few weeks to organise things. "Take all the time you want, Scully. But make it quick." "Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" And then he gives me another box in which is sat a beautiful platinum wishbone encrusted with diamonds and a single row of emeralds. "Oh, Mulder, this is too much. I didn't expect this." "It's instead of an eternity ring. I can't give you children which is when, traditionally, I would have given you one. But I want you to know that I've always loved you and I'll continue to love you for however long I have left on this earth." As the clock chimes Midnight, he holds me close wiping the tears from my cheeks, "Merry Christmas, Scully," he whispers. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ 10/12 NC-17 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards FOR DISCLAIMER SEE PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com NC-17 Mulder's Bedroom Early Hours of Christmas Morning Since the night in his study a few weeks ago, I haven't touched him. We have kissed and cuddled in bed and our passions have led us to fondle and caress each other. I have, however, avoided that area of his anatomy altogether. Preferring for him to tell me when he's ready. I don't want him to think I'm pushing him. We really should be sleeping, tonight of all nights, but my mind is whirling too much from his proposal. It was all so sudden. Not all that unexpected, but very sudden. Typical of Mulder to have everything so organised. The licence, my outfit, the rings. I expect the staff have been organised to provide a meal but bless him, he always forgets something. The guests. I have people I need around me to watch this momentous occasion. I'm not marrying Fox Mulder after all these years and having no one see it. I want to shout my love for him from the rooftops. And anyway it's important for me that my family see how happy I am. After all the problems I've had in the past, I want to be sure that everyone else knows I'm doing the right thing. Not just me. He has slid into bed beside me and his mere presence sets my pulse racing, the hair on my arms tingles with the shock of his nearness. Oh, God how I want him. Perhaps tonight will be the night. Perhaps Santa will bring me another present, the ultimate gift of love that I can give him. To explode within the woman he loves. "You awake, Scully?" "Mm. Can't sleep. I'm too excited." "What, about Christmas?" I turn over to face him and he slips an arm under me, cuddling me to him. "No, silly. Us." "You want to get married then?" "Of course I do. I love you more than anything. I can't wait either." In the darkness I can see him pout. "Well why not tomorrow then?" "Because, Mulder." Silence. "Because a woman needs more time than that." I feel him push my hair out from my neck and begin to pepper my skin with kisses. "Do we have time for this?" "When don't we? Mm. I should say so. Just a bit lower. Mm. That's good." He pushes down into the hollow of my throat, fondling my breasts and fumbling with the buttons of my pajama top. His breathing is shallow and already he seems very aroused. I hear him curse under his breath as a button refuses to cooperate. "Here, let me." I quickly undo all four of them and feel the warm, sweet sensation of his slender fingers on my flesh. I sigh deeply. I think I've waited all my life for this. Everything with Mulder is so good. Tweaking my nipples between finger and thumb is probably enough tonight to send me over the edge to orgasm, but still he forges ahead with his sexual ministrations. He is on top of me and the warmth of his flesh is intoxicating, the smell of Mulder mingled with his sexual aroma. He's high tonight, like a cat on heat. I can smell his sensuality. I wrap my legs around his waist and go with him when he moves. I hear him groan and push down on me, moving his lips down to my nipples he tugs and teases them until my mind is almost blown with the ecstasy of it. "Is that good?" He stops and looks down at me. "Dana Scully, I love you with all my heart." Somewhere in my core I feel like a hot knife has just been ripped through me. "Oh, God, Mulder. I want you." "I want you too." The intense urgency in his voice crushes my heart and I know that it must be tonight or he'll lose faith in himself. I reach for him and he doesn't pull away. Easing him onto his back, I sit astride him and lean in to kiss him deeply, whispering my love for him, trying to make the whole thing not seem orchestrated. As I ease myself back up I lay a trail of kisses from his navel down to the top of his pubic hair. He shuts his eyes tight and I know that he's trying to concentrate, willing himself to perform. I kiss him again, trying to help him to forget. To lie back and let me help him, if I can. Slowly I circle him with one finger and then just tickle his hair. He shifts and squirms a little. I think this is having some effect. "Is it good?" "Mm. Yes, it's good. Don't stop." "No chance." Bending again and scooting down the bed, I kiss his inner thighs and scrotum leaving my lower lip to graze his penis as I move to plant a kiss on his tip. Replacing my lips with my thumb, I gently caress him and hear him gasp. I allow the whole of my body to make contact with his as I again kiss him deeply. "Oh, God, Mulder. You're so beautiful. I love you so much." Before he can answer me I move down again and continue my feather-light caresses. I kiss his penis again and this time he bobs, just a little but I can feel his thousand watt smile from under the comforter. "Scully?" He asks breathless, "Did you feel that?" "Yes, Mulder." I grin back. "I did." Taking the opportunity I grasp him firmly with one hand using the pad of my thumb to make circles on the sensitive tip. "Oh, Scully." He groans. "Omigod, that's so good." Slowly I push my hand up and down and begin to feel him firming beneath my fingers. Oh, thank you, Lord, for yet another miracle. "Scully. Not too hard, you'll lose me. I'll come, it's been so long." I still his protests with kisses. "Shsh. Relax. I won't, just a little longer and then you can come inside me." With a strangled grunt he grabs hold of me, trying to push himself inside. I still him again. "Not just yet." I continue pumping him slowly, but rhythmically until he his panting and I know that I cannot go on any longer or else he will lose this precious erection to his own bodily need. Easing myself over him I hear him cry my name as for the first time in twenty years he enters a woman. "Sculleeeeee." "Shsh. It's okay. Relax. I'll move, you just lie there." "Scully, I haven't done anything for you." "Don't worry about that now. I'm more than worked up for both of us." He feels so good inside me. I've waited so long for this moment. Even so, I don't want to move too quickly in case he comes straight away. He soon calms and slowly I ease myself up and away from him. He squeals with the pleasure of it and I can feel myself on the edge. The intensity of his emotions is going to make me orgasm. I just know it is. I quicken my pace a little and Mulder is lost. He just lies there and accepts all the love that I have to give him. I realise that we can't keep going long. Most of his adult life he's been unable to make love with his wife. To feel himself inside any woman would be like hooking himself up to a 240v electric shock, so I can hardly imagine what it feels like to be inside of me. The woman who he's searched for as long as he's been married. I want this to last for him as long as he can keep it going, but from the state he's in I don't think that will be much longer. His breathing is hitched now and I know he's on the edge and so am I. I bend down to kiss him, offering him all that I am, all that I have. "Mulder, I need you." Those few words are the catalyst and we are gone, lost in the others passion. Just a few more strokes and together we scream the others name, years of pent up frustration and love exploding within our bodies. Our union is complete. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ MSR 11/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Christmas Morning Mulder's Bedroom The snow has fallen steadily overnight carpeting the grounds and the nearby park in its thick white blanket. Mulder is still asleep, curled up in the foetal position, an expression of pure blissful slumber. Things can only get better now. With one last look at the christmas card scene outside I make my way to the bathroom. Last night had to rate as one of the best times of my life. Probably Mulder's too. The whole evening was magical from when he gave me the kitten to falling asleep in each other's arms, sated from our lovemaking. Lathering up the sponge I can still feel the way his silky fingers traced their delicate way across my skin. How he makes my whole body hum with his presence. He exudes a magnetism that I've never experienced in a man before. Daniel didn't possess it. Hell, maybe most of the population don't. Mulder sure as hell does though. And for that, I am immensely grateful. For once, I have inside knowledge of what it feels like to be laden with guilt. I feel like I'm the one who's subjected him to all of this anguish in his life since I left him. If only I'd known what Elizabeth was like, perhaps I could have saved him from some of this. I have the opportunity to now though and I'm not letting this one pass me by. Pulling the robe around me, I miss the warmth of the water as the cold chill of the air hits my body. I shiver just a little and move back to the bedroom. Mulder is awake and sitting on the edge of the bed, his one hand curled around his forehead. The other laid flat in the middle of his chest. A terror twists in my gut as I swallow and try to keep my voice even. "Are you okay, Mulder?" He looks up and smiles at me. "I'm fine. Just a bit of indigestion." "Are you sure?" My heart flits around my body as if temporarily it doesn't know where its home is. Another smile, not a very convincing one. And he knows it. He sits up straight and pats the bed for me to join him, taking hold of my hand. "I'm fine. Now stop worrying." Jesus, Mulder. If only I could. If only. From his nightstand he produces a tiny parcel wrapped in metallic paper with matching curled ribbons. He beams as he offers it to me. "Merry Christmas, Scully." "Merry Christmas, Mulder." I say a little bemused. "I thought we'd exchanged everything last night?" He gives me a sheepish grin. "Some things are right for the day." Carefully opening the paper I push out the small box inside. On the wadding inside the tiny box are the most exquisite earrings I've ever seen. Tiny pieces of Mother of Pearl and diamonds set into white gold filigree butterflies. One for each ear. No question is needed, I just put my head on one side and he can read my puzzled look. The one that says, hey these aren't contemporary, whose were they? "I hope you like them, Scully. I had them made especially." "Not for me though, I suspect." I say kindly. "Not exactly." He begins to laugh. "What?" "Typical you. That's why they put the I in FBI. Always could sniff it out couldn't you, Scully?" He walks over to the window, leaning his tall frame against the window jamb, gazing out at the still falling snow. "I had them made for Pearl for one Mother's Day. She was very much in love with Reggie, her husband, and he gave her a lapel pin the day they got married. It had this tiny butterfly on it and I wanted to get her something that made her realise how much I loved her. Something that would be very special to her. She gave them back to me on her deathbed." He stops and I see him swallow down the emotion he's feeling at recounting this tale to me. I move across to him and he puts an arm around my waist. "Wear them for me, Scully. They're not hers. I did have this pair specially made for you because I wanted them to hold the same sentiment. I wanted you to realise just how much I love you." As I slip the earrings in, my eyes bare my soul to this dark, hollow man that I used to know. These past few months have shown me the warm depths of him that I've never seen so openly before. Depths that I knew existed, that I just skirted along the edge of, but now are beginning to unfurl before me in all their glory. "You don't need these to show me, Mulder. I already know. Thank you for the sentiment all the same." I reach up on tiptoe and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, he in turn takes hold of my face in his hands. "My Scully." His voice is low and reverent, the words sound almost like a prayer. "Thank God I found you." "I'll say amen to that too." I smile up at him, a smile that quickly turns to terror as I see his ashen face slipping down the window frame, his body crumpling in a heap at my feet. Blinking back the tears that threaten to blur my vision and impede any help I can give him, I turn him on his side. "Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me?" He nods, I can see his chest is heaving and he's having difficulty breathing, let alone speaking. "Chest pain?" He nods again. Grabbing my celphone I dial 911, my fingers trembling over the buttons. My heart has settled at the pit of my stomach and formed itself into a leaden ball. The call made, I ease him up against the side of the bed tucking a pillow under his bent knees. "I've called for an ambulance, Mulder. They'll be here soon. Try to relax, breathe as normally as you can." His hand reaches out to me as he mouthes 'Fine.' In the absence of knowing what the hell else to do, I smile. "I know," I say, my lower lip trembling as he falls to one side, losing consciousness. "You will be," I murmur, stroking his head. "You have to be." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Mercy Hospital New York Too many hospitals, way too many hospitals. My whole life with Mulder has been spent in hospitals. I thought that it was all behind us. How wrong can you be? Slender fingers slide over my own, squeezing them gently. "He'll be fine." I nod, not trusting my own voice. "Truly." The squeeze is intensified and for a split second I feel comforted before the icy cold hand grasps my heart again. His tall frame overpowers over me as he approaches the long line of plastic chairs in the corridor. "Dr Scully?" "Yes," I rise on shaky legs, "how is he?" "Please, sit down." I do as I'm bid, the effort of standing too much. "It's not good news. What he suffered at home was very mild but as you know he suffered a severe arrest in the ambulance." Again I nod, my professional demeanour having fled over the past few hours. Bless her, Amy makes up for my silence. "Can we see him?" "Only for a short time, he's very weak. Then we'll prepare him for surgery. We need to operate to repair one of the valves." "What if that doesn't work?" Amy says exactly what I cannot bring myself to. The doctor looks at both of us. "We can always take a vein from his leg. Possibly insert a plastic valve, but we prefer not to if we can avoid it. Depends on what we find when we open him up. At the moment we don't have a match on our banks so we couldn't transplant." He smiles. "If everything goes okay, he should be fine." Closing my eyes and biting down on my lip are the only ways I can actually stop the scream from escaping. So many life threatening situations, so many scrapes and he could lose his life to a heart attack. It all seems so mundane for us, for Mulder. "Mom?" The hand is replaced on mine. "I'm fine, dear. Come on, let's go see him." Amy, I think, is more shocked than I am. I'm used to seeing Mulder hooked up to all sorts of hospital equipment, wondering whether he'll live or die. Whether I got to him in time. Whether They got to him in time. Wondering what lasting effects, if any, he'll suffer this time. Physically or emotionally. All too familiar. Far too familiar in one life time. He's not fully conscious but sufficiently aware to know that we're there. I slide onto the chair by the side of the bed slipping my hand through the rails to hold his hand. "Scully?" "Hush. Don't try to talk." "What's happening?" "They're going to operate to try to clear and repair one of the valves around your heart. You're going to be fine." He shakes his head and that icy hand grabs my heart again and twists it around and around until it all but squeezes the breath from my lungs. "Too late." "The operation is standard procedure, Mulder. You're going to be fine." That errant lock of hair has fallen across his forehead and I stand and brush it back with my fingertips, replacing them with my lips in a kiss. I feel Amy's hand on my shoulder and as I turn see the nurses coming to prep him. "I have to go now, Mulder. You'll be fine." In a split second all of the love within him shines forth from dark eyes and I realise that I'd trade places with him in a heartbeat. Eyes that convey years of conversations we've never had, vows we've never made. Truths we've never really spoken. Eyes that say. My Scully. I love you. The sob in the pit of my stomach threatens to well up and overpower me as I take his hand and place it against my cheek. "I'll see you soon." Turning his palm towards my lips I place a kiss there and place his hand back on his heart. "I love you, too." Only Amy sees the anguished 'so much' I silently mouth as she leads me away from his side. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ This has to be the longest night of my life. My tenth styrofoam cup is tossed in the garbage. Amy walks down the corridor, carrying my eleventh. She is so like her father, tall, thin and darl haired. Daniel would be proud of her. She always did have a passion for medicine and when he died she decided to pursue a career in it. She is enough of her own woman that I know she is only honouring the memory of her late father, not living her life through his eyes. I hope she never experiences the guilt I felt when I joined the FBI against Ahab's wishes. Time though has taught me that the choices we make are the ones we live and learn by. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. My stomach lurches again as I check my watch for the nth time this night. He's been in surgery for over ten hours. As is always the way when you're waiting for urgent news of a loved one, there are no nurses around and the corridor seems like a morgue. The steaming hot coffee is offered and I gladly accept. Grateful that I can do something with my hands other than sit and wring them in worry. Age has mellowed me somewhat and I tend to show my feelings more, especially in front of Amy. We've always been close and early on I confided my feelings for Mulder to her. She bears me no grudge and wants only my happiness. I cherish that kind of love, the freedom to act out my life without fear of reproach. I know that I couldn't live without Mulder but to know that Daniel's daughter bears me no ill will is more than a comfort to me now. As the eleventh cup goes in the trash can I feel her tiny hand on mine again. "It won't be long now." "What's taking them so long?" A hint of panic and hysteria rise in my voice. She detects it and steers me away from it. "He's in the best place. He's in safe hands." "It's been too long. There's something wrong. I know it." I pull my hand free of hers to push it wildly through my hair. She grabs it and anchors me again. "No news is good news." A clich, but a comforting one nonetheless. The click of heels approaching jerks my head up and I expect to see the surgeon, still in his scrubs, come to talk to me. Instead, my face lightens in a rare smile as I see my friend and colleague, Dean Hamilton hurrying down the corridor. I rise to kiss him. "Dean, so good to see you." "How is he, Dana?" I look across at him, confused. "Amy called me. She thought you might need someone to talk to." Tears well up in the back of my eyes, she's such a thoughtful girl. Dean is exactly the person I most need at the moment. Someone who can lead me though this nightmare, step by step. "Why has this happened, Dean? When you saw him, he was well, it was so mild you didn't prescribe any medication for him." "I'm so sorry, Dana. It happens sometimes. I've checked out patients as all clear and before they've left the clinic have had a coronary right there. It's so goddamn embarrassing, but hell that's nothing compared to how they and their relatives must feel." "It's one of the valves that was blocked, he's been in surgery for over ten hours." I reach for his hand. "Is there any way you can find anything out?" "I'll try, Dana. I'm not promising anything, but I do have a few contacts here. I'll try not to be long." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ After what seems like hours Dean comes striding down the corridor. I can hardly contain myself, such is my need to know how Mulder is. He runs the last part of the way sensing my need and sits down beside me. "Okay. I've had a word with the surgeon, we were at Med School together so he was happy to let me talk to you. There were some complications." My heart freezes over and my face must take on a similar mantle if the way Dean is looking at me is anything to go by. "What sort of complications?" I ask shakily. "Well the valve repair went well but then he had another massive attack." I can feel the colour drain out of me as Amy places her hands on my upper arms, holding me steady. "His lung collapsed as well. In the end they decided to insert a new plastic valve. Trouble is, he's not really showing signs of accepting that. Seems the last two attacks did a lot of damage and now they're going to look for a donor." The world seems to be swimming in front of my eyes as I lean back against the warmth and comfort of Amy. Dean takes my hand. "He may accept the plastic valve and if he does then he'll be fine." "If he rejects it." No question, no answer. I'm a doctor for godsakes, I know the consequences. "He's just coming out of recovery now. He's in the side ward on the left at the bottom of the corridor." Dean is pointing the way but I don't think my legs will make it. I feel both their hands on my arms and I'm propelled along as if in a dream. I'm settled in a chair by his bedside and then they leave me. Taking his hand I close my mouth around his knuckles, part kiss, part sob and lay my head down on the covers. He's not yet conscious and I'm so tired. Just a few minutes and I'll feel refreshed. My eyelids feel so heavy, I have no control over them as they drop, letting the blackness wash over me. Groggily I open my eyes and lift my head only to be startled by another face staring back at me. An older lady with grey hair and glasses. I shake my head to clear the fuzziness and sit upright. Mulder is still sleeping. "It's not time yet, dear." "Not time for what?" I ask, confused. "He hasn't been called. Don't let him go. Fight for him." Her words trail off as does her image, one minute she's there and the next she's gone. I blink several times, wondering if it was a dream or whether it really was Pearl I saw. Again. On the bed in front of me I see the two velvet ring boxes Mulder gave me for Christmas. The emerald on my finger catches my eye and in that moment, I know what I must do. "Sc---?" My heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice, however cracked and dry. "Hey. How are you feeling?" "Like somebody ripped out my chest and put it back in again." I smile at his wit, always amazed at how he can joke at times like this. "That's just about the measure of it, Mulder." "Oh. For a minute there, I thought it was a dream." "Some dream, Mulder." A nightmare more like. Instinctively we reach for the others hand, needing the comfort of the others touch. His eyes seek mine, needing the silent reassurance of my presence before they close and he drifts off again. With my free hand I toy with the ring boxes. I cannot fathom how they got there. I certainly didn't bring them with me. Unless Amy brought them in, but to what end? And, in fact, how would she have known? It was only last night he gave them to me. I don't even know if she's noticed my ring, there have been so many other things happening. My fitful sleep on Mulder's bed is interrupted by nurses coming to check him periodically, and just pricking the edge of my consciousness is a voice. 'Don't let him go. Fight.' Each time I hear the hypnotic lilt of it my vision is blurred by a silver grey mist. As I awake I feel cool, slender fingers in mine and feel his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand. I smile, he's still here, he hasn't gone. Don't let him go. Don't let him go. I shake my head to clear it. Hazel eyes, clouded by medication bore into mine. "Feeling better?" "Shouldn't that be my line?" "You look exhausted, you should go home." "He's right, Mom?" Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I can see Mulder's bemused look and fill him in as to exactly who Amy is. He's seems a little shaken at the news. "Hi there, Mulder. You had us all worried for a moment there." "Hello, Amy." He shakes his head and turns to face me again. "This is all a bit too much to take in." "Well," I say, matter-of-factly, "you two can get acquainted. I'm taking you up on your advice and going home." Mulder tries hard not to show his disappointment. "I'll be back, I have to go pick up a few things. Don't worry, I won't be long." "But --- Scully." Patting his hand, I smile. "Don't worry, Mulder. She's training to be a vet. You're in good hands." Turning to my daughter she sees more in my eyes than most. Realises that I wouldn't leave Mulder's side unless what I had to do was of the utmost importance. "Go ahead, Mom. Take all the time you want. I'll keep him in check." Mulder feigns a look of horror and I laugh for the first time in a long time. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ MSR 12/12 NEVER LET GO by Yvonne J Richards SEE DISCLAIMER IN PART 1 Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com Mulder's House Central Park As I approach the large gates they open automatically and before I've parked the car, Charles is on the driveway, opening the door for me. "How is he?" "Not good, Charles. Not good." His tired eyes convey the worry I sense he feels over Mulder. On our way into the house I fill him in on all the medical details and ask for his help in preparing for later this evening. The warmth of the hall hits me in direct contrast to the freezing cold weather I've just driven through. I feel a little lightheaded and grab onto Charles' arm to steady myself. "Come and sit down in the study." "No, I have too much to do. I need to get back." "Rosie and I will do all we can to help you." "And anything I can do, I'd be more than happy." A small voice issues forth from Mulder's study. "Jacyln is here helping us tonight." Producing a list from my purse I hand it to her. "Could you organise this please?" She looks a little bemused. "This looks like a list for a wedding, Dr Scully." Exchanging glances with all of them, I somberly answer. "It is." With everything loaded up in the car I make my way back to the hall to thank everyone and assure that they'll follow on and come to the hospital. "I'll see you later then?" I say to the three of them. Rosie and Charles exchange looks. "What? Oh, don't say you can't come. He doesn't have anyone else." Rosie's eyes tear up. "Any other night, miss. We'd come gladly, wouldn't miss it for the world." "Why not tonight?" Charles interrupts, pulling himself to his full height. "Rosie and I run a sort of a soup kitchen for the vagrants in the park. If we don't go this evening they'll have nothing to eat." "Oh," I say, completely stunned, "I didn't realise you were members of the Sally Army." "We're not. Dr Mulder funds it. Has done for a good many years now." Phew, that was a body blow if ever I received one. No wonder he knew Annie and her friends. Jaclyn interrupts my thoughts. "I'll go. I'll do the run tonight. You two go to Mulder. Send him my best." Charles lays his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you. He'd be proud of you." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Mercy Hospital Later that same Evening Clutching the marriage licence in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers that Jaclyn expertly tied with raffia and ribbons for me in the other, I stand by his chair. After a bit of a struggle we managed to get Mulder into his tux and the final touch is a small white rose which I'm just pinning to his lapel. His warm breath assaults my neck as he whispers. "I'm not going to make it, am I, Scully?" I quickly swallow down the panic I feel. "Of course you are." I can't meet his gaze, only keep my voice as even as I can. "Why this then? Why not wait?" Trying hard to laugh, I counter. "What's the point in waiting? All this," I wave a hand in the air, "has made me realise how fragile life is. I don't want to waste a second of being Mrs Mulder. Anyway, it's a shame to not use the licence." Having calmed myself somewhat I can look into his eyes. He knows I'm lying. "Do this for yourself, Scully. Not for me." "Who else would I do it for?" The tears threaten to spill and I pull away as I see the celebrant enter the room. Mulder and I exchange one last knowing look before he begins. "This is a pleasant duty that Dana and Fox have asked me to perform and I'm glad to be here with you all today." After his preliminary speech, he walks over to us and holds both our hands in his. "Fox, do you take Dana Katherine to be your lawful wedded wife?" A long moment ensues while Mulder's eyes penetrate mine. Checking and re-checking that this is what I want, that I'm not doing it out of pity for him. That I truly want to be Dana Katherine Mulder. One blink is all he needs. "I do." "And Dana, do you take Fox William to be your lawful wedded husband?" "I do." No hesitation. I look deep into his eyes, conveying all the love I feel for him, have felt for him for years. "Then by the power vested in my by the State of New York, it is my very pleasant duty to pronounce you man and wife." A cheer goes up and I can hear the pop of a champagne cork and Charles is milling amongst us with glasses. There are shouts of "Kiss her, kiss him." I bend down, feeling his warm breath on my neck. "'Til death us do part, Scully." The icy hand reaches in and grips my heart, giving it another squeeze, forcing the breath from my lungs. I can't make eye contact with him, if I do I'll break down and sob. I just nod, close my eyes and feel the warm tingle of his lips upon mine. I know this could be the last time I hold him in my arms but I can't allow myself these feelings. Not now. As we surface, the cheers go up again. A nurse pops her head around the door and gives us a disapproving look. "Sorry about the noise." I say. Suddenly I realise the room has gone exceptionally quiet. Mulder is rigid with pain, his eyes screwed up against the intensity of it and just as suddenly he lies limp in my arms. My whole world narrows down to his face and the flatline on the monitor. My hands hover around his face, his beautiful, impassive face. Milimetres from his skin they travel, over his head, grazing his shoulders. Breathe for me, Mulder. Breathe, goddammit. The terror and panic that well up in me that are unimaginable. I can't lose him now. Suddenly my professional persona clicks into place as I begin to frantically perform CPR on him. The crash team have to literally pull me off him. From the chaos of the wedding to the chaos of the crash team. The bustling scene has turned to slow motion and our guests have been ushered out into the corridor. Even though I'm a doctor, I too have been pushed aside into the corridor. The gulf between Mulder and I seems immense and yet somehow I feel him inside of me, holding me up emotionally. Dean and Amy are either side of me, holding me up, literally, as it feels as if my heart has stopped too. Through my tears I see Jaclyn walking along the corridor towards us. Charles embraces her in a bear hug and through the haze I manage to thank her for making it. "I didn't. I brought Annie in. A car hit her. She was dead on arrival." "Oh, I am sorry." I say, trying to sound genuine. I am hazily aware of things going on around me and Dean being called away. Internally I fight for Mulder's life, willing my own breath into him as if my own life depended on it. The truth is it does. I can't let him go. Please don't take him, not yet. I end my fervent prayer, simply, I love you, Mulder. The door to his room opens and the crash team make their way out into the corridor. The doctor comes over to me. "It's touch and go, Doctor --- Mrs Mulder. If we don't find a match soon, he won't be able to withstand another one." "I understand," I say with a blinding clarity that I've never felt in my entire life until now. I twist my new rings round and round. "Can I see him now?" "Of course." His ashen face looks almost apologetic as he sees me approach. The hand comes out to meet mine and the eyes lock in unspoken words,. "You didn't let go," he struggles. "You fought." My brows knit together as if somewhere in the dim distant past I've heard that before, but I can't quite recall where. "I'll never let go, Mulder. I'll always fight. Now close your eyes and get some rest." He kisses my hand and places it on my heart. "And I love you, too." He smiles and I know that however little time he has left this was worth it. Seeing him again, being with him, sharing even this small amount of time was worth everything. And I'd do it all over again, time and time again. As he drifts off to sleep, his hand protectively in mine, he smiles. If that's all I can give him now, it's enough. Just some peace and happiness at the end. Watching him sleep is a comfort. The drugs have taken effect and he's in no pain. I just hope he can hang on for a donor. Dean interrupts my thoughts, scooting a chair over to my side. He looks agitated. "What is it, Dean?" "We've found a match, Dana." I release a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. "Where? How? Who?" "She was brought in tonight, an RTA. She's a vagrant, most people know her as Annie from the park." My body goes chill as I realise who she is. Who exactly it is that could help my husband to live. My face must look troubled as Dean carries on. "It's a match, Dana. A really good one. In fact." He stops, lowers his voice and looks around as if imparting some top secret information. "It's the darndest thing. The match is so good, if you didn't know better, you could believe they were siblings." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ One Year Later Christmas 2019 It's good to have friends and family around me at this special time. It's made all the more special by Mulder and I making a re-affirmation of our wedding vows, twelve months on. It's been a hard year. One that has seen changes in both our lives. Mom has moved in to Mulder's house, correction, our house and some of the staff have moved out. Charles and Rosie are still with us, if a little less elaborately attired nowadays. Jaclyn has become a good friend and personal assistant to both myself and Mulder. I've even persuaded Mulder to think about re-opening his Psychology practice. He hasn't agreed but he's considering it. I feel it will give some meaning to the years of study he put in as well as to the recent training he received to achieve his Doctorate. Panda, the dog, and Poo, the tabby cat, how she came to have that name is another story, continue to become firm friends. That is, until a fire is lit and they suddenly become arch enemies, each trying to get the lion's share of the warmth. The cat usually wins. Mulder enjoys his walks in the park with Panda and even though he tries to hide it from me, I've seen him talking to her when no one is about. I talk to Poo about all sorts of things, so that makes me just as bad. Amy now has the house that Mom and I lived in and is continuing to do well with her veterinary studies. I know she'll succeed at anything she chooses to do, just like her Dad. She looks stunning in her ivory silk dress as do Danielle and Katherine. Both pre-schoolers, their tiny ivory hooped dresses with burgundy velvet sashes look divine. Jaclyn has woven tiny ivory and burgundy rosebuds into their hair. Mulder has one on each knee at the moment and he would agree that they are the most adorable grandchildren. Mulder gained an instant family from me what with Mom and Amy. Daniel's son, Geoff, who I also adopted, married Janie six years ago and blessed us with our two little cherubs. Danielle was born after her Grandpa died and so was named in his memory and Katherine, who's three, was named in honour of me. After believing I would never have a family, they are amongst my greatest pleasures. Of course, my greatest pleasure is my husband. Fox William Mulder. And today, I have all of my friends and family gathered around to witness this momentous occasion. It is tinged with a little sadness because of the nature of the original day, but there is much more happiness to be had. Mulder's transplant went well and he continues to make excellent progress. Healthwise he took to the new heart with little trouble and physically was well on the mend much earlier than his doctors thought he would be. He had a hard time coming to terms with whose heart had been transplanted into him though. We spent many tearful nights, him holding his chest and sobbing. He felt so many regrets that he hadn't realised who Annie was. As I look across at him now and see his happy, smiling face I remember one night in particular where I believed he just didn't want to go on. He hadn't been out of hospital long and winter hadn't yet let us out of her grip. We had sat in the study sipping coffee when suddenly he broke down. "Mulder? What is it?" He was clutching his chest and began to sob, almost uncontrollably. "I can't do this." "Can't do what, Mulder?" "Keep her in here," he said indicating his chest. "It's not right. It doesn't feel right. They shouldn't have put her in here." "Mulder, it must be very difficult for you but if she had to die, surely it was only right that she should help you of all people." "Are you sure it was her?" Deep, dark eyes bore into mine with the sadness of a lifetime spilling out. "I had the DNA checked and re-checked. If it wasn't Samantha then I don't know who it was." A sadness hung over him that night and he looked at me with such huge eyes, imploring me to understand. "She has to come out, Scully. I have to bury her, give her a decent burial." My body went quite cold at the thought. His guilt was overpowering him again. "But don't you see, Mulder. Through her helping you, you've breathed new life into her. Given her a purpose to her life. In the end she gave you all that she had to give and more. Your life in trade for hers." It took a long, long time for that notion to sink in and even now he still mourns her passing and bitterly regrets the years he unwittingly fed his little sister from his makeshift soup kitchen. He's beckoning me to re-join the party. "Hey, Scully. You looked miles away." "Just thinking how well you look." He laces his fingers through mine and pulls me down into his lap and whispers in my ear. "I'm doing very well aren't I?" I nod. "Do I get a reward tonight?" I pull away and laugh, indicating with the twinkle in my eye that he will indeed get his just desserts tonight. "Good," he says, planting a kiss on my nose. "I'm glad we decided to do this today, Mulder." "Me too." "Oh," I say, fingering the tiny butterfly pin on my lapel, "thank you for this. I found it on my outfit today." His eyes grow wide with disbelief. "I didn't put it there. The last time I saw that it was pinned to Pearl's jacket the day of her funeral." My face goes white, can Pearl really have given me all these gifts from the grave? Fortunately, I have little time to dwell on it as the celebrant arrives. Today we have enlarged our ceremony a little and as we stand in the large hall by the round table with our friends and family surrounding us, we vow undying love for each other. "'Til death do us part." We both say earnestly. As we kiss there is rapturous applause and our eyes meet and lock. Mulder breaks the spell. "Someone once said that the unfinished symphonies are the best, but somehow I'm not so sure about that." "Interesting thought, Mulder. But we're not finished yet, we're only just beginning." He tips my chin up and places a kiss on my nose, "I hadn't looked at it quite like that, Mrs Mulder." "You should open yourself up to extreme possibilities, Mr Mulder." He laughs like I've never seen him laugh before, and it warms my heart to see him so happy. "C'mon, you have to throw your bouquet." I shake my head. "No. Come with me." As I lead him through the large front door and to the waiting car he looks confused. "We can't just go, Scully. What about our guests?" "They'll understand." As we reach the car he sees Charles ready to pull away, our topcoats on the back seat. "Now put your coat on, it'll be cold." He looks quizzically at me but does as I ask. When we reach the chapel where Elizabeth and his children are buried, he reaches for my hand "Thank you for this, Scully." As we make our way over to the far side of the cemetery I stop and take three roses from the bouquet. One for Elizabeth's grave and one each for Elouise and David. In the distance, under a big oak tree lies a brand new headstone. As we stand, together, hand in hand, in silence I place my wedding flowers on her grave. A little girl who somehow got returned but never knew from where she came. Lived her life as a vagrant and eventually lived off the one person who had struggled all of his life to find her. Quietly, he begins to read the chiselled words. "Samantha Ann Mulder, born November 21st, 1965 died, December 26th, 2018. Daughter of William and Christina. Beloved sister of Fox. Lost and found again. Too late, but just in time. Your presence will always burn bright in our hearts. Rest in Peace. Forever." The tears begin to stream down his face. "I can't begin to thank you. For everything you've given me. I know you'll never know." Squeezing his hand, I look up into a face haunted by so much pain and guilt. They truly were siblings. He gave up his life to look for her and she gave him back his life when he needed it most. A life for a life. So much like my own sister. Another death, another time we held hands, comes back to me vividly. "She knows. Samantha knows." A smile traces itself across his lips as he enfolds me in his arms, kissing the top of my head. "Hold me, Scully. Don't let go." "I won't, Mulder. I'll never let go." ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Epilogue ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ In a cold, dank graveyard at Christmas, two lovers embrace. In the distance an old lady hovers and by her side, holding her hand, stands a little girl, her long hair in braids. "Live for me, Fox. Be happy." For those who believe and want to hear her words, they will. For others it will just be the wind in the trees playing tricks on the mind. ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ The End ~~()~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~()~~ Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com If you enjoyed, and I hope you did, then hit that reply button.